#do not go gentle into the darkness of medical neglect

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Preaching Date translation + Subbed Video

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien casually closes his eyes and raises the gun, pulling the trigger without care.

Bang-!

The barrel swiftly twists, and a bloody "firework" explodes on the man's finger.

Lucien's expression remains indifferent, but crimson bloodshot vessels have already filled the bottom of his eyes.

Like a calm sea surface concealing a dark vortex that has already surged, ready to swallow everything at any moment.

Everything- including himself.

Translation under the cut

[Subbed Video]

[Part 1]

The summer is full of sunshine in Europe, yet the temperatures are rather gentle like late spring.

I lift up my phone and capture a snapshot of the emerald-green scenery under the radiant sunlight.

MC: Lucien, what do you think of this photo I took?

Beside me, Lucien slightly leans forward. His other hand wraps around my waist.

Lucien: The composition is novel and the theme is clear, but it lacks a finishing touch.

MC: Huh? What do you mean?

As he speaks, he hands his phone to me, and the screen displays a photo — with the same emerald green tones, but this time with the addition of my silhouette in the background.

The thought of me taking a picture of the trees while Lucien takes a picture of me at the same time and space makes me unable to suppress my laughter.

MC: Professor Lucien always seems to play the role of the “watchful observer”* behind the scenes, doesn’t he?~

(T/N: 黄雀在后 (Lit. the oriole behind) is from a complex idiom 螳螂捕蝉，黄雀在后 (lit. The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind) which generally means to pursue a narrow gain while neglecting a greater danger. You can say that Lucien is the greater danger and it’s an important foreshadowing :D)

Lucien: Is that so? I haven’t thought that much about it though.

Lucien: In my judgment, the best scenery is only found where you are.

I raise the corners of my lips and hook my hand around his neck under the shade of the trees.

MC: Well, I admit you’re more meticulous~ But are you sure you want to accompany me sightseeing?

MC: You have to attend the academic exhibition tomorrow. Shouldn’t you go back to the hotel and prepare for it?

Recently, there have been groundbreaking advancements in the research of neurodegenerative diseases at the Ultima Bioresearch Center.

To make further progress, Ultima Bioresearch Center organized its researchers to participate in the latest academic exhibition in Europe to present the project research to major medical companies.

If the collaboration between the two parties is successful, they will jointly develop lower-cost medications to save more patients.

Lucien smiles and lifts the palm of his hand to cradle the back of my head, imprinting a kiss on my forehead.

Lucien: Mm, can’t be more sure.

Lucien: The reason I came a day early is to bask in the sun and take a walk with you in advance.

Lucien: Moreover, this city holds numerous festive gatherings during its lively times, and I’m really looking forward to this time of leisure and exploration with you.

MC: Alright then, I can enjoy myself without worry.

MC: However, if there’s any assistance you need from me at the exhibition tomorrow, as a “non-staff personel,” I’ll be there to support you!

After saying that, I grab his hand and walk towards a bustling crowd ahead.

Apart from the fantastical carousel and teacup-like Ferris wheel, there are also shooting stalls, ring-toss games, claw machines, and other stalls all around, creating a lively atmosphere.

Lucien: Which one would you like to play first?

MC: Hmm... It seems like there are long queues for all of them.

Lucien looks around and then takes my hand, leading me toward a shooting stall filled with plush toys.

Lucien: Since that’s the case, let’s go to the place with prizes first.

Lucien: If we arrive late, I might see a “disappointed” little lady.

[Part 2]

That night, I fell into a deep slumber, holding tightly onto the small fox plushie that Lucien had won for me.

After a restful sleep, I wake up refreshed the next day and neatly organize the materials at the booth.

MC: It’s starting in ten minutes.

I adjust the name tag on my uniform, ensuring that the synchronous translation device in my ear is functioning properly. Then, I wave at Lucien before heading off.

MC: Today, I’ll be your little assistant, Professor Lucien. Feel free to give me any instructions~

Lucien: Then I’d like to offer a token of appreciation before we begin as a small thanks.

He smiles and takes my hand, walking towards the nearby railing.

The exhibition is located in an open-air atrium of a luxurious hotel, surrounded by lush greenery. With a gentle inhale, the air is filled with a delightful fragrance.

To my surprise, I discover that on the ground floor of the hotel, there is also a festive gathering with various stalls in the courtyard.

MC: Haha, I didn’t expect the organizers to be so thoughtful.

MC: They even consider that even the greatest and most rigorous scientists need to relax and unwind their minds from time to time~

Colorful tents adorn the area, and among them stands a person-sized rabbit plush toy inside a claw machine.

It raises its furry paw, seemingly beckoning to those who are destined to take it home.

Lucien: MC, don’t you think it would be a perfect match with the little fox from last night?

He seems to have noticed the same thing as me, and his voice gently resonates with a joyful tone.

MC: Yes, it’s indeed a perfect companion!

MC: I wonder if it will still be here waiting for us once we’re done with our busy schedule.

As I speak, I glance around, searching for any potential “competitors.”

However, since it’s an event within the hotel, aside from the staff, only a few people are sitting on a swing in one corner.

They are wearing casual plaid shirts and don’t have any name tags, so they must be hotel guests.

However, it seems like they are not very interested in the gathering as they keep their heads down, engrossed in their phones.

Lucien: It seems that for now, there won’t be anyone to compete with us for that adorable little rabbit.

With a subtle sense of delight, I tidy up his collar once again.

MC: Professor Lucien, shall we start working? We can bring it home with us once we’re finished~

Since it is a highly selective exhibition, the attendees here are representatives from authoritative companies in the medical industry.

In addition, with the format of poster presentations, Lucien and other researchers take turns being on duty.

One group is responsible for providing explanations to the attending representatives, while the other group can explore and learn from other booths.

Although I may not have expertise in the relevant field, I do my best to assist by delivering materials and providing guidance.

After two busy hours, the visiting group of researchers returns with smiles on their faces.

Researcher A: Thank you for your hard work. Now it’s our turn to take over and provide explanations.

Researcher B: The booths this time are all impressive. I believe you will gain a lot from exploring them.

Lucien: Alright, shall we go then?

Lucien’s fingertips naturally intertwine with mine through the gaps between our fingers. However, he doesn’t stop at any booth but leads me directly to the entrance on the ground floor.

MC: Huh? Aren’t you going to explore the booths?

He glances at the rabbit still inside the claw machine, and there is a slight relaxation in his expression.

Lucien: Of course, we’ll explore them, but we have two hours, remember?

Lucien: If all goes well, within ten minutes, I should be able to have you holding the rabbit in your arms.

MC: Professor Lucien is quite confident, huh~

Lucien: (chuckles) In my plan, having it as our companion will ensure that we have a good mood throughout the entire day.

As he speaks, he takes out a stack of bills and exchanges them for a basket of coins at the counter. He then walks over to the claw machine.

Because the rabbit plush toy is quite large, the claw machine is filled with balls of different colors. The goal is to grab the only pink ball, and then exchange it with the staff for the rabbit plush toy.

MC: Are you so confident? Those claw machines can be rigged, you know!

Lucien: As long as I practice a few times and observe the claw’s gripping strength, speed, and inertia when it shakes...

Lucien: Then we can bring it home.

The claw slowly descends after Lucien presses the button, scratching the smooth surface of the ball but coming back empty-handed.

He doesn’t feel discouraged. A sharp gleam appears in his narrow eyes as if he is quickly calculating something.

As time passes, with only two game coins remaining, Lucien calmly inserts them into the machine.

Lucien: MC, if I succeed on the last attempt, can I get some rewards?

I certainly know what he’s hinting at. I tiptoe and give him a kiss.

MC: Of course you can.

MC: However, based on my understanding of you, you can totally redeem the reward in advance!

[Part 3]

MC: Wow, this rabbit is even softer than I imagined.

Lucien: (chuckles) It’s very cute indeed. Can you lend it to me for now and place it at our booth as a mascot?

Lucien: Who knows, it might attract more company representatives to come over.

MC: Um! After we place it, then I’ll accompany you to visit other booths...

As I speak, I suddenly feel a buzzing sensation in my head, as if a layer of white mist is enveloping me. My vision becomes blurry, sometimes appearing closer and sometimes farther away.

Lucien....

Slowly turning my head, I notice that Lucien’s figure has become hazy, and the surrounding noise is drowned out by a buzzing sound.

He seems to have noticed that something is wrong with me as well, and he anxiously wraps his arm around my waist.

Lucien: MC.

I can’t hear anything.

I can only see his mouth opening and closing as if he’s calling out my name, but when I try to reach out and hold him, my hands are unresponsive and out of control.

It feels like an unknown force is pulling at my body, and I am aware that I have opened my mouth, uttering unexpected English words.

But in the next second, the translation earpiece automatically recognizes my voice and converts it into a cold, electronic sound—

‘MC’: “Hey, Professors, how can you two just casually leave the exhibition like that?”

What is happening?

No matter how much I try to wave my hands or shout out loud, it’s of no use.

It feels like my consciousness is being drawn into a vessel, and no matter how much my brain sends commands, my body refuses to obey my instructions.

Just as I try to seek help from Lucien, my legs suddenly start running forward, and then I leap up, using the railing in front of me for support, momentarily soaring into the air.

I sense a hint of pain as the ligaments in my thighs tear instantly, but in the next second, my body jumps over the railing.

Soon, the swing that I saw in the morning comes into view in my line of sight, and my hands immediately reach out from the bushes, holding a handgun.

After completing all the actions seamlessly, a cold muzzle is pressed against my temple.

Bang-!

My mind goes blank for a brief moment.

The expected pain and agony do not arrive as anticipated. In my line of sight, birds startle and flap their wings towards the sky, while the people around me scream and scatter in all directions.

In the chaos, several armed men drive the people who couldn’t escape into the tents, and sobs can be heard from inside.

Lucien: This evolver, what do you plan to do?

I feel the corners of my mouth twitch, and I keep the gun barrel pressed against my temple. I turn around and look at Lucien, whose face has turned icy.

His face is particularly grim, and the temperature around us seems to drop several degrees under the scorching sun.

But “I” simply give a shake to the bunny ears in my hand and let out a scoffing laugh.

‘MC’: “Professor, don’t be nervous. I’m just here to get the job done. If possible, I don’t want anyone to die here either.”

‘MC’: “So, before I explain my intentions, how about we quietly return to the venue?”

Lucien doesn’t take a step forward, and his narrow eyes become slightly cold.

Lucien: You have already stirred up trouble.

Lucien: I’m afraid that there won't be a way to calm things down peacefully.

As “I” speak, I tried countless times to escape from the white fog, but each attempt ends in failure.

Just as I am trying to calm down and think, “I” suddenly releases the grip on the gun and casually flips it around twice.

‘MC’: “Fine, let’s save some time then.”

‘MC’: “Although I’m not a professional, I do know that all of you have excellent research achievements. It’s just that they’re a bit too good.”

‘MC’: “If we continue to lower drug prices, there will always be people who are unhappy.”

‘MC’: “So, on behalf of my boss, I want to have a chat with all of you, discuss some business, and ensure that everyone presents has an opportunity to make money.”

The cold translation plays through the earphones, gradually making me realize that a terrorist attack is being launched against the exhibition.

However, he seems unfamiliar with Lucien, and the fact that I’m the one being "held hostage" is more like a “random stroke of luck.”

With that in mind, I instinctively nodded toward Lucien, despite being out of control.

‘MC’: “Alright, let’s go back to the venue with us. This way, I will release this lady.”

Lucien: I understand your intentions now.

Lucien: But you've taken the wrong person hostage. She is not a research team here.

Lucien: And compared to you, the person standing in front of you seems to pose an even greater threat.

My lips twitch again, but the bristling hairs on my body told me that there is some surging emotion building up.

However, the person controlling my body seems oblivious to this subtle change, even arrogantly crossing their arms.

‘MC’: “Professor, actually, my luck is not bad. Even if I’ve taken the wrong person hostage, she is still the most important one among these people.”

‘MC’: “Because you care about her a great deal, don’t you?”

‘MC’: “If you don’t believe me, take a look at this...”

The rabbit in my hand slips away and falls in front of my shoe.

I lift my hand and press it forcefully onto a sharp fence behind me, leaving a trail of blood.

A piercing pain spreads from my fingertips to my whole body, and my vision becomes blurred by involuntary tears.

However, the person controlling me seems to be devoid of shared pain, continuing to press down without any concern—

An instant frost envelops my fingertips, followed by my joints as they freeze, leaving my limbs completely immobilized in place.

Bang- Bang!

“I” follow the sound and look, only to see the people who were holding the gun also frozen on the ground, their eyes filled with fear clearly reflected through the ice crystals.

??: AHH-!

The people being held hostage immediately scream and flee from the tent, leaving only “me” and Lucien standing in place.

Lucien: Sorry.

Lucien: It might be a bit cold, but it'll be fine soon.

Lucien walks towards me step by step, and wherever he goes, thin ice forms in his steps.

I’m unconsciously trembling from the chilling air, and he covers the back of my hand with an even colder palm.

In just an instant, the gun in my hand is taken away by him.

[Part 4]

‘MC’: "If you're willing to do it, go ahead and shoot. After all, she'll be the only one getting hurt."

Lucien: I see you still haven't figured out the situation.

He shows no emotions on his face, the tightly pressed corners of his mouth sharp as a blade.

Lucien: The issue I'm facing has never been about making choices.

Lucien: Because even if you were to gamble with your life, your life is not worthy enough to do so.

Several sharp ice shards suddenly appear with us at the center, slanting downward and refracting a cold gleam of light.

Lucien: I know where you are.

Lucien: I also know what your fate will be.

At this moment, I feel my body stiffen, as if it's a reaction triggered by that Evolver.

‘MC’: “You-!”

All the ice shards pierce through, resoundingly embedding into the ground, except for one spot where a different sound emerges from the thicket of trees—

—like a muffled sound that blends together the piercing of flesh and bone.

As my body trembles uncontrollably, a body pierced by ice shards in each limb falls from among the trees.

Lying on the ground is a young man who appears to be around thirty years old, dressed in a plaid shirt...

In an instant, I recall that he seems to be the person who was sitting on the swing earlier in the morning!

So, it turns out they had already infiltrated early in the morning.

‘MC’: “....”

The person controlling my body seems to be overwhelmed with fear, only able to produce hoarse gasps.

Lucien takes oppressive steps forward, picking up the rabbit plush toy and the scattered game coins that fell to the ground.

Seeing my blood on them, a cold gleam flashes through Lucien's typically calm eyes, causing terrifying cracks to appear in the surrounding frost.

After a moment of silence, he sits on the nearby bench, quietly embracing the plush and holding it as if it were a lifeline.

Lucien: Sir, you made my rabbit dirty.

Lucien casually closes his eyes and raises the gun, pulling the trigger without care.

Bang-!

Lucien: However, that's not the only mistake you've made.

The barrel swiftly twists, and a bloody "firework" explodes on the man's finger.

Lucien's expression remains indifferent, but crimson bloodshot vessels have already filled the bottom of his eyes.

Like a calm sea surface concealing a dark vortex that has already surged, ready to swallow everything at any moment.

Everything- including himself.

Lucien: But now you still have the opportunity to make the final judgment.

Bang- Bang!

But Lucien seems uninterested in receiving a response, immediately firing several shots at the man’s various limbs.

The next moment, I feel my vision blur once again, but this time it seems like control over my body has returned.

I make a few deliberate movements with my fingers, and the sensations transmitted through the nerve endings make me realize that the person controlling me seems to have vanished from my body.

However, the peculiar sense of detachment amplifies within my body, and I can't prevent myself from losing strength and falling to the ground—

A strong hand scoops me up and embraces me.

Lucien: MC, it's all right now.

Lucien: It’s all right now…

It’s as if he said the last sentence to reassure himself, with barely detectable tremors in his soft voice.

MC: Lucien...

The lingering fear makes me instinctively cling to him, as if trying to absorb his warmth, burying it deep within my chest.

And he is holding me tightly, his large palm gently stroking me over and over again.

Lucien: Don't be afraid, I'm here.

MC: I... I can hear and see everything, but I just can't control myself...

Lucien: (chuckles softly) MC, do you need to confirm it again?

Lucien is holding my hand to his cheek, a cool and soft touch comes from his fingertips.

My fingertips tremble slightly, then slowly glide across his cheek, his nose, and the edge of his lips.

I want to imprint these ordinary touches deep into the bottom of my heart.

Lucien: Even though it feels a bit ticklish, you can take as much time as you need to be sure.

Lucien: I'll be here for you until you're fully at ease.

Lucien lowers his head and gently kisses my lips. His movement is light and slow as if he wants me to feel him as much as possible.

 MC: Lucien....

I grip his lapel with a bit of force, feeling the tension of the fabric under my fingertips, gradually soothing my unease and palpitations.

Everything that just happened seems to be just a nightmare.

After deepening the last kiss, he gently sets me down, crouches, and takes hold of my knee, slowly rubbing it.

Lucien: Are you still cold?

Seeing the apology in his eyes, I shake my head, preparing to say something, when a siren suddenly rings out from the distance.

I stare blankly at the man who's fallen unconscious on the ground, the pool of blood beneath him is a shocking sight.

Lucien: He’s fine for now.

Lucien: But I need to take you to get bandaged up first.

He massages my knee again, his gaze fixed intensely on the coagulated blood at my fingertips.

Even though it's just a minor scrape, I don't want him to worry any further, so I obediently nod.

MC: There seems to be a medical station in the venue, so by the time the police arrive, we can still manage to cooperate and give statements...

Before I can finish, Lucien pulls me into his arms, his chin lightly resting on the top of my head.

Lucien: There's no need to rush

Lucien: I don't want to make you suffer any more today. I will negotiate with them to postpone the process until tomorrow morning.

He unconsciously tightens his grip, revealing deeper emotions beneath his slightly stern demeanor.

Apart from guilt, there's a greater sense of fear that he can’t control.

[it’s the fear of losing someone yet again :”]

I can't help but hug him tightly, feeling his silent but turbulent embrace.

MC: Even though I'm fine now, I'll still listen to you~

The light in Lucien's eyes softens a bit more, he releases me and picks up the rabbit plush at his foot, and gently pats it.

Lucien: MC, my plans have been disrupted, so to make it up to you...

Lucien: I will help you clean it. In the time that follows, both me and it will be here to bring you joy.

#it's rare to see lucien actually lose his shit like this #oh look new trauma unlocked #16+ as in mild gore warning #PG are you sure this is a date not main story- #mlqc lucien #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc #mlqc spoiler #mlqc cn #mlqc translation #lucien: *looking at the man in his own pool of blood* eh he’ll be fine #also lucien: *looking at MC's minor scraps* are you hurt? you need to be bandaged up #the double standard is real #anyway 10/10 date really love the use of word like vortex #bc it reminiscent to what happen in main story

[frowerssx2]

Precious things in Jars...

If you asked him, Shuu Iwamine would deny that he was sentimental. But yet, he has a basement filled with his most precious possessions. 

Word count: 4,060

Trigger warnings: spoilers, horror, Blood and Gore, character death, cannibalism (read at your own risk and let me know if there are anymore triggers)

Habit, routine, and organisation were the three things that were a constant comfort for Shuu, he never enjoyed it when things didn’t go to plan or when things didn’t do what they were meant to. Because of this, the creaking of his basement door that announced its opening, then the low buzz of the light switch that always struggled to explode light, pleased and settled him.

This entrance was always the same which made it so wonderful.

Slowly, not out of habit or routine, but because his right leg decided to be more of an annoyance than it normally was, Shuu walked down into the dark, damp, and slightly dusty room underneath his apartment that was barely illuminated by the deep orange single light bulb that was simply hung from a wire.

Ah, this small room, it was his sanctuary, his workshop, and where he has collected some trophies over the years. It was rare for him to admire these trophies, but today he felt rather nostalgic, he wasn’t sure why but he wanted to revisit the memories and emotions that were connected to a few of them.

With this in mind, Shuu turned his head to look at the right far corner of the room, the sight of two white hybrid creatures sitting obediently in the play area he created for them, made his beak form a gentle fatherly smile. They were now preparing to play with their animal teddies he got them a year ago. Mayo, a Red fox teddy for Miru, and Tao, a Red Panda teddy for Kaku. They always did this when he turned on the fairy lights on the wall and put on instrumental Christmas music for them. However, he shook his head, there was no time to get distracted by them, goodness knows they already took enough of his time, and sometimes their requirements exhausted him and tasted his patience. No, it was better to do what he wished now while they were content and distracted. Though, saying that, Shuu did allow them a quick gentle stroke of his wing. It was a comforting touch, a touch they have all grown to, a touch that has also become another comforting habit.

 After seeing Miru and Kaku’s identical smiles, Shuu walked over to his first trophy collection which was a large number of jars that sat in a perfect line across four long shelves. Each shelf held two identical lines, all of which contained what even he had to admit were beautiful, vibrant, and unique feathers. Usually, feathers would be immediately discarded once their owners became corpses since they held no scientific or medical properties that interested him, however, on rare occurrences somebirdie’s plumage triggered his interest and he admired their physical beauty. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had his favourites and these favourites were stored in jars that held his wing prints, not yellowed or dusted with neglect and age, one, in particular, was a pretty faint blue jar and like always, Shuu lifted it from its home to hold it in his stronger left wing. He then pulled out a feather that once belonged to a Red Cardinal, then one that belonged to a Golden Eagle, then the extremely rare feather of a Hooded Pitohui, then boringly a peacock feather and a feather of a Lesser Bird of Paradise,  and then, finally the feather of a green, blue and red Parrot. To store six feathers in one jar when it could easily fit ten was usually a waste of space, but to store these feathers in a tight space that would only prove to destroy their beauty would be a terrible waste. Definitely, since their owners are buried in places Shuu’s minds can’t be bothered to remember, that or they’ve been burnt to a crisp.

 Sometimes, Shuu wonders if Miru and Kaku knew how lucky they are to still be at his side in one piece. Anyway, replacing these six feathers would become either a hassle or an impossibility so it was best if he kept good care of them just like he did with the twins.

“Wait” Shuu muttered, not sure if he was talking to himself or Miru and Kaku who seem to be remembering the rule of being quiet, out of sight, and in one place today. Because of this, Shuu made a mental note to reward them later, but, right now that wasn’t important, not when he suddenly remembered that he had a seventh feather to add to this collection. With that in mind, Shuu walked to his desk where another trophy awaited him but that would wait for a while more, he was sure it wouldn’t mind, after all, when it was once attached to a living being they never minded waiting as they were awfully patient, loud and sometimes enthusiastic but still patient when it came to having his company, so a few more moments apart would not harm it. For now, Shuu picked up the feather that was laid on his desk, sadly this one was a little bit shabby in quality thanks to it being a pen, though he could only blame himself for that. The feather itself wasn’t beautiful nor was it unique, in fact, it was plain and rather ordinary. Now within the jar with the others, this new feather stood out like a brown Horse would do in a herd of Zebra.

 However, this one had significant meaning to it, yes it was a dull white feather of a Fantail Pigeon connected to a pen tip that was blunt due to regular use but it was once connected to a bird who proved to be a rather obedient and loyal puppet for Shuu. It was a great shame to “let him go” a year ago, but the bird was no longer required nor did it prove useful to him anymore and so, he removed them from existence, but kept one feather amongst other things, but he would go through those samples later. He was just pleased that the feather was in his possession again after gifting it away. Shuu knew that it was because of some sort of sickening act of emotional connection that caused him to keep this feather. That and he couldn’t help but think how ironic it was that he had possession of it. Smirking, Shuu placed the jar back where it belonged, then, with a ruffle of his wings, he went to another jar.

Oh, now this one, this one was truly glorious.

Just like with the feathers, this jar had the company of more jars that contained blooded eyes, some of which still had the four veins that formed the central retinal vein still attached. The vein itself was perfectly stringy and lumpy. But not only that, but the irises of the eyes were a gorgeous red. He didn’t know why but there was something about the dead eyes of other birds that thrilled him.

Was it their dead stare?

Was it the whiteness in their eyes that was the obvious sign of the lack of life?

Was it that now dead and dethatched the veins in the sclera were no longer prominent?

Was it the amusing memories of how some of these were removed?

 Whatever the reason, Shuu sat the jar down to get another one filled with eyes. Unlike the others, these weren’t kept so he could admire their beauty, he stored these for an entirely different reason...

With a hum that could be mistaken for a hungry growl, Shuu picked up a random jar and took out an eye. By now the eye would have lost all moisture but Shuu took excellent care of everything he owed. The twins would no doubt agree if he asked them but they were being oh so wonderfully obedient today that it would be pointless to disturb them. But, with them being distracted by their new toys, Shuu could pop his delicious treat in his beak. With a groan full of pleasure, Shuu used his tongue to roll the eye around his beak, he did this so he could taste every last bit of it. Then, he rolled it to the tip of his beak and bit down. Immediately, juices burst into his mouth with a loud pop, the burn of those juices going down his throat was truly intoxicating. 

If not, terribly addictive...

With another groan, Shuu chewed the squishy but slightly firm meat in his beak until it became a reasonable size for swallowing. 

 Now, this was a treat Shuu could happily enjoy. However, he couldn't continue, not if he wished to enjoy the other meal that was currently cooling down him on his surgical table. With that in mind, Shuu placed the jar down to run his eyes over the other jars, unlike the shelves with the feathers, these shelves stored more than eyes. There were tongues, beaks, legs, wings, and dead bird fetuses. The latter not filling Shuu with any guilt whatsoever as these “children” were created for scientific research or he has ownership of them due to the fact they were donated to him by means he would rather not explain. Of course, as expected, the sight of these caused Miru and Kaku to become rather uncomfortable, well, most of Shuu’s collection did, hence why they were placed in a corner that was far away as possible, a fact they have frequently thanked him for. Though, there weren't just organs on this section of shelves as it was also the temporary home of a jar that contained something different. With a soft smile, Shuu gently ran his feather tips across the jar's face. The rather large clump of white, fuzzy fur within this jar was more than precious. It was an impossible and valuable sample from two unclassified hybrid creatures. No, this fur was not precious, it was marvelous. 

 How terribly lucky he was to have these samples.

But, what a pity that he had absolutely no idea what to do with them and where to store them. This valuable sample should not be stored with mere organs that could easily be replaced. After all, if he took too many fur samples Miru and Kaku would become more hideously cute than they already were. Not only that but Shuu has grown too fond of them to defur them so horribly.

Damn those children for accessing a part of his heart that should have been forbidden and impossible to get to. 

 With a frustrated sigh and a low-spoken curse, Shuu decided to open his large box freezer. Just to smile at the sight of jars in clear plastic freezer bags that were neatly stacked within in organized lines. One line was for hearts, another for lungs, another for pancreases, then kidneys, stomachs, and so on. These items were easily replaceable yet extremely important to contain as these were the main tools in his experiments and surgeries. But, of course, like always, there was a line of jars that were truly marvellous as they contained brains. Stacks of brains which was a constant supply of research and experimental material, though, now he looked at it, Shuu was rather disappointed at his collection.

The fact all of these brains belonged to birds truly displeased him.

A medical genius like him who held incredible skill and knowledge shouldn’t be this limited!

He shouldn’t only possess these simple brains!

No...It wasn’t enough

“That is where you come in my dear” Shuu said turning around to pick up the jar that has been forgotten by him ever since he entered this room.

The sight of a human brain floating in his homemade liquid that proved to reduce the time in the decaying progress for organs, made him smile with pride. Finally, he has received an extremely valuable, rare, and thrilling research material that was worthy of his time, skill, and learning abilities.

Oh...

How he couldn’t wait to cut into this brain...

 “Thank you, Miss Tosaka” Shuu spoke in a low and seductive whisper that would have made the human girl shiver with a nervous, if not aroused shiver. 

But now...

The idiotic, stubborn, and energetic girl wouldn't react to anything he did or to anything he said.

Not unless he tilted the jar that contained her head in a certain way anyway. Though, any moment caused the girl's head to nod. It was awfully pleasant to always get consent to do the things he wished with her body. The very body that was currently laid on the metal surgery table. By now, the chest has already been skillfully split open, and everything that once called it home has been either stored, researched, experimented on, or eaten. Shuu found it very ironic every time he placed a slice of her meat in his mouth, no doubt that the girl had a childish and naive schoolgirl crush on him and wanted to explore his mouth. Though, perhaps she didn't what it to be by the means of becoming food. 

But, she couldn't blame him now could she?

He gave her plenty of warnings of his dangerous and callous behaviour and yet she ignored them all. 

It was not his fault that he decided to reward her exhausting stubbornness by these means. 

Not like he minded, her death was quick and now she belonged to him.

There wasn't anything else more satisfying. Because now he could do as he pleased. 

 Suddenly, his stomach rumbled so Shuu placed the jar with the girl's head down, and walked over to the meal he prepared himself a few moments ago. His mouth watered at the sight of small potatoes, beans, and what unknowing birds would call four slices of pork. But this was no pork. Oh no, this meat came from the same source as his beloved feather pen. Using his right wing and a meat knife, Shuu cut the meat, watching as the brilliant red liquid of blood poured onto his plate. Then, with another delighted hum, he slowly ate the meat. 

It was divine and cooked to perfection.

“I don't know why you were so displeased, Miss Tosaka” Shuu began glazing at her head once again, then with a smirk, he took another bite “Hmm…After all…Sakazaki does tastes rather…Marvelous”

While Yuuya Sakazaki was indeed a loyal and obedient puppet, he lost his worth and use as soon as he graduated, due to this Shuu saw no reason for his existence anymore. The boy’s death was quick since he didn’t fight back, which was wonderful, it was always so fantastic when Shuu’s prey doesn’t fight back. Plus, Sakazaki proved to be more useful in death than he was in life as he was food and research material. Why Tosaka couldn’t understand that was beyond Shuu, what with her being an Omnivore, he thought she understand the thrill of killing other living things and tasting their rich and smooth blood. But perhaps, the fact that she once knew and held a pleasant conversation with the thing she was eating was too much for her.

But, it wasn’t as if she was performing the act of cannibalism.

No, that was him and he didn’t mind. What better place to get fresh, healthy, and delicious meat than your own infirmary?

 It was almost three months ago now when Yuuya’s life came to an end, Tosaka was more recent, a mere month to be specific. Sakazaki was buried within the grounds of the mansion his beloved brother owned. Shuu did this for his own amusement because that is one place Sakazaki wanted to go but was forbidden to.

Now thanks to Shuu, the boy could stay within the grounds undisturbed.

Meanwhile, due to his busy schedule, Hiyoko Tosaka was still laid on his surgery table, undressed with her head missing, the entire length of her chest split open, the cut going as far as where her uterus awaited him. The sight of it was too tempting; it pulled him in like a moth to a light, and he willingly went to it with a rustle of his wings. He then turned to look at Tosaka’s face, having to turn her jar slightly more to the left so she could watch, though, she wasn’t the only observer Shuu wanted now, was it? Not when two hybrid creatures were obediently sat in the corner. Moving quickly, Shuu collected them, already knowing they would not argue or refuse his command. How they were always so curious about his work was probably one of the reasons he has gotten so attached to them.

“Don’t move” he told Miru and Kaku once they were sat on a nearby surface, he would hate it if one of them fell since that would cause unnecessary hassle and exhaustion for him. Now with an audience, one of which he has grown used to, Shuu dug his wings into the corpse of one Hiyoko Tosaka. He then searched for that uterus he still needed to remove, purposely dragging his feather tips across the muscles and veins underneath her skin. Though, now with the warmth of her body gone along with her blood, performing an Organ Procurement no longer held the satisfaction it once did.

No, now the procedure was simply a requirement.

 With disappointment threatening to overwhelm him, Shuu quickly removed and jarred the reminding human organs. He then carried them to his second box freezer.

This one might be larger than the first but it stored less research material, some of which were very valuable. With a click of the lock, Shuu lifted the lid, and a burst of a cold shill made him ruffle his feathers again.

How he hated the cold.

Soon though, a smirk appeared on his face as his eyes roamed this second box freezer.

Oh yes…This freezer truly held the most extraordinary and rare samples, all separated into organized sections. One section held the blood, feathers, brain, and liver of a bird who could drag other birds into his hallucinations, the very hallucinations that made Shuu his mortal emery. A fact that got him killed, cut up, and so wonderfully stored two months ago. A time frame, Shuu had to admit was too long for him to still have the corpse. As for now, Mr Akagi, or as he always preferred to be called Higure, was crumpled into the right corner of the freezer behind the jars of his samples. At first glance, one could mistake that the boy was kneeling to do some bizarre and idiotic prayer.

That was until one court the sight of his opened, empty chest, skull, and eye sockets.

Yes, the corpse was rather battered now, but it has granted Shuu much research and knowledge. With Higure’s samples who knows what he could do, what medicines he could create that may or may not aid diseases and health cures. Without knowing where the samples come from, and of course, without seeing this corpse, others will no doubt marvel and praise Shuu for his incredible work that could change the world.

“Perhaps I should burn you, after all, an “angel” like yourself will not be very welcomed in hell now would you?” Shuu muttered with small laughter, ah yes, that is what he shall do with this corpse. To rid yourself of the unholy servant of the devil just as witches, one must burn them and send them back to their home.

Yes, a bomb fire in a random neighbour was overdue.

 With a new plan in mind, Shuu lowered his newest samples down in the section that belonged to Tosaka, pleased to see the many jars lining the floor of the freezer. By now, the section above hers that once belonged to Sakazaki was now becoming empty, though, the section that belonged to a pair of birds who are now a species that has gone extinct remained. There was a simple reason for this and that was the fact Shuu did not hold the skill to research them yet.

Destroying these samples would be devastating since they were the only ones in the world and Shuu was lucky enough to have access to them so he will not let a slip of his left wing destroy them!

No, these samples can wait.

Though, they did remind him of the fact that he had these bird's eyes sat in a small and circular glass coffee jar.

Picking the jar up made Shuu smile, it was a genuine smile full of warmth and affection. These eyes are the source of happy and cherished memories. Feeling a strange warmth, Shuu put down the jar, and turned to walk toward Miru and Kaku. He was suddenly in a good mood and didn’t he make a mental note to reward them for their good behaviour? After all, making the twins happy made him happy. It helped that Miru and Kaku didn’t require much. They never did ask or demand anything from him. Not a personality change, not his money or knowledge, not to improve his health, nothing they asked for nothing.

This made him love them like his children

“Twins-” Shuu began, walking over to Miru and Kaku, an idea of how to reward them coming to mind, it was simple action but something they will no doubt enjoy after spending so much time down here in what they always called a “creepy basement”.

“Why, don’t we go back upstairs? You can sit on the windowsill and play that ridiculous game of eye-spy you enjoy so much while I make us some cookies” Shuu said to the twins, his tone becoming soft and tender that shockingly came naturally for him. But, he has always treated these two with tenderness and affection. Allowing himself to smile, not caring how obvious it was to see how much he cared for these hybrid children, Shuu stood in front of them.

With them, he could be himself and they would not care

He could conduct what other birds call unethical, horrific, and brutal experiments and the twins will still love him and he shared the emotion, he truly did.

“Let’s go” he spoke again in what could easily be described as a comforting and loving fatherly tone, knowing that the twins would lift up their flipper-like arms eagerly before becoming deafening loud due to their excitement.

 Or at least, they would have done, if they were still capable of movement and speech...    

 Instead, they sat frozen in place, with their flipper arms beside their small furry bodies, beaks stitched and wired to make their usual brilliant and welcoming smiles. Their insides carefully removed, their perfectly cleaned and preserved fur carved into this beautiful and never-ending mould.

Like this, Miru and Kaku shall never grow up which meant Shuu didn’t have to risk the chance of being left alone again.

Like this, he would have their constant company forever,

Like this, the twins will not misbehave nor will they cause him headaches or stress.

Like this, controlling them was so much easier but most of all...

 Now, that they were like this, they will stay with him forever and be a family that never separates, it was truly wonderful.

After all, wasn’t that what they wanted?

Softly and gently, Shuu picked up the two creatures and walked back up the stairs feeling very thankful that he learned the art of taxidermy to preserve the twins so beautifully.

“There” he cooed with a soft tone, ruffling Miru and Kaku’s fur on top of their head in an affectionate way once he placed them on the window shelf as promised. They always enjoyed doing this, even now in this state. What with their eyes replaced by black buttons, a bald spot covered by Faux white fur that was slightly off.

 How lucky they were not to constantly be stored down in a basement they hated or in a small, claustrophobic, and cold jar. But no, while Shuu did indeed store precious materials and samples in jars, these two now extinct, on-No, two-of-a-kind and joyful specimens that brought him a strange familiar comfort deserved better than a mere jar, they deserved to be with him always. Just how they were, frozen in a never-ending happiness.

 Perhaps, after eating those meat-filled cookies, Shuu could go hunting for more precious things to put in jars...

 ….Fin….

(Any feedback would be truly appreciated. Also grammer and punctuation corrections are also really appreciated since I have dyslexia and would love to learn how to improve my writing)

This Fanfiction is also on:

Archive of our own: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44493646

Fanfiction:

Coming soon

#hatoful boyfriend #Hatoful boyfriend fanfiction #hatoful boyfriend spoilers #horror #blood and gore #frowerss writes #do I dare tag the characters too? #eh why not #shuu iwamine #yuuya sakazaki #hiyoko tosaka #anghel higure #frowerss writes twisted horror #this is what happens when an idea popps into my head and I just write it down #I literally went frowerss no but then frowerss yes #I will go to the naughty corner now lol #i should probably post this now #this is the definition of bad things getting worse #Precious things in Jars... #to find it easier on this blog #anyway I am going to bed now #weee #please let me know your thoughts #and of any improvements

[thebibliosphere]

Not to rehash my trauma on main, but I’m just going to remind everyone suffering from chronic fatigue, depression and other misc illnesses that doctors file under “anxiety” like they’re playing scratch off lottery tickets to get their b12 levels checked, because although I survived my ordeal last year, I cannot convey to you the amount of damage that was done both physically and mentally from being allowed to be so ill for so long without adequate medical care.

My condition was discovered with mere hours to spare, and I will be forever grateful to the hematology team who fucking rallied to make sure I lived. But I will likely always be resentful of the doctors too who looked at all my symptoms, told me I had ghosts in my veins, and tried putting me on anti-psychotics instead. And then when I refused that treatment, labelled me a “difficult patient” so going forward any doctor checking my file over the next decade and a half would see that little marker and go “ah, not worth my time.”

It took until I was literally so symptomatic the poor PCP who saw me the day I staggered into his office thought I had late stage cancer, and he threw me at every specialist possible because this was a problem beyond diet, exercise and a prescription for “shut up and go away” pills. And while yes, I have recovered in major, fantastic and amazing ways (I got belly fat y’all!) I’m still also dealing with the fallout.

Physically, I’ve made my peace with the pain. The fatigue. Knowing I’ll be on treatment for the rest of my life. But mentally? Oh god, mentally I don’t even know if I have the words to tell you anymore. And not because it was harrowing, even though it was, but because my pernicious anemia was allowed to advance to such a state where I was experiencing early onset dementia. And while to many, especially my friends who knew me before, it seems like I’m back... Mentally there’s pieces of me missing. Whole years are gone. The memory of friends, jobs I’ve worked on, things I have written. Names. Faces. And words. So many words. I find myself staring frequently at Word documents, head tilted to the side as I try to parse what’s wrong, to bring back the words forever poised on the tip of my proverbial tongue but are swallowed by grief instead.

And it’s so fucking frustrating. It’s so frustrating because I know, I know what I was capable of if I go back far enough and look at all the things I’ve done. But that person isn’t me anymore. I’ve got a ghost in my head, and it’s the person I used to be and sometimes I think I can hear her wailing because it’s not fair. It’s so unfair it hurts and I swear if I could give this pain away I’d break it off in pieces like poison and feed it to all the people who said “it’s nothing, you’re fine, stop exaggerating, take your anxiety pills and go away.”

And then sometimes I will remember the right words and the sun will come out and I remember vaguely the person I used to be. Though mostly I don’t. But I write the words I have down anyway, because some words is better than none. Even when it hurts. 

#chronic health tag #pernicious anemia #brain weasels #do not go gentle into the darkness of medical neglect #kick scream and claw and take the bastards with you #and get your b12 checked #death mention #tw death mention #medical abuse #medical neglect #I'm dealing with all this in therapy atm #so it is on my mind a lot #and if I can save just one person from going through this #fuck #I'll live with it

[sentinelpri]

Feverish

You were surprised to have been called to the med bay a little bit past nine in the evening, woken up by your phone ringing and Ratchet on the other end. You clutched your robe close to your body as you raced through the hallway, sleep in your eyes and worries in your head.

The lead medic had given you no explanation, only telling you to come meet him outside of the med bay as soon as you could before he hung up on you.

You wondered if it was an emergency, if someone was injured or dying, if something had happened during patrol- Wait, no. Their night patrols didn’t start for another hour or so, and if it had been an emergency, someone like Bumblebee or Optimus would’ve called you in a panic.

Still, the whole situation was weird, and you were worried, so when you saw Ratchet outside of the med bay leaning against one of the walls, you immediately approached him with your concern etched in your features. 

Upon seeing you, Ratchet stood up straight, then put a strong servo on your shoulder in a reassuring manner before looking down at you. His pale blue optics burned into your (e/c) eyes, and though you tried your best, you couldn’t read his expression.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medic spoke.

“Optimus Prime has fallen ill.”

“What?” You immediately sputtered, and your eyes flew to the door of the med bay; closed, you couldn’t even see Optimus. You just prayed that he was okay. In the time that you’d known the Prime and his team, you’d seen him injured or sick plenty, though the former was much more common. He never prioritized his own health and tried to push himself to do things, even when he was unwell, so he took forever to recover... Hopefully it wasn’t something severe. “How bad is it? Is he awake? Have you told the team yet?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. It’s nothing crazy, (y/n), so don’t worry,” Ratchet’s words, said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, soothed you, if only a little. If it were serious or ‘crazy’ as he put it, he would’ve told you directly instead of lying, so you believed him. “This morning, I was the first to wake and go into the kitchen to make myself an energy booster when I saw him stumble in... As in, he was literally stumbling over himself and I could see steam rolling off of him from overheat. He insisted he was fine, but something was off, so I dragged him to the medbay for testing. He’s low on energon and coolant, he was overheating, and there was a minor glitch in his vents from some battle damage that I had to fix. He’s recovering fine, but my main concern is that his chassis seems to be overheating to kill an infection. I think it’s just your run-of-the-mill space bug based on the labs I did, so I gave him some antibiotics.”

“You didn’t answer some of my questions-” You started, now concerned with whether you could actually go and see Optimus or not.

It wasn’t uncommon for the red and blue bot to ignore his own needs, but for him to have ignored symptoms that could’ve turned into something much worse had Ratchet not caught them... You wondered if there was something bothering Optimus that was making him neglect himself, more than he usually would.

“So demanding, you youngin’s,” Ratchet huffed and rolled his optics at you. “It’s not that bad, he’s awake, and no, I haven’t told the others yet. Our nightly patrol is soon and I have to break the news to them somehow, which is why I called you here. You can’t go with us anyway and they need me since we’re down one bot, so I want you to stay with Prime. He responds the best to you...” You blinked and then blushed at that, (s/c) cheeks burning bright. It was true that you and Optimus were close, but for Ratchet to acknowledge it like that... Well, you were flattered. You’d loved Optimus for as long as you could remember, and even though Ratchet surely meant that in a platonic way, it was nice to know that the effort you put into your relationship with the bot meant something. “His condition isn’t from a decline in his physical health- I had to pry like hell to find out what it was, but Prime finally broke and told me that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an energon cube or ran a self-evaluation to make sure he was functioning properly, which is why he’s energy-depleted and why the damage to his vents went unchecked. He’s so stressed from the leadership that this team needs that he isn’t taking care of himself anymore, and now, it’s led to him falling sick again. I think there’s something else going on in that processor of his, too, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else... I just know it’s more mental than anything.”

You stopped, frowning. What else could Optimus be hiding from everyone? Was he doing something dangerous? Had something happened? Was he breaking down from stress?

“O-Oh.. Okay,” You mumbled and leaned into the servo of Ratchet’s that was on your shoulder, sighing when he ran his thumb over a sore spot on the groove between said shoulder and your collar. The two of you had developed a close bond over the past couple years since they’d been on earth, with you, Sari’s tutor and caretaker, also acting as a second medic for the team with Ratchet’s training. While he’d trained you in how to care for the Autobots, you’d given him the basics of human anatomy and medical care, so with that time spent together, you were close- whether the old grump admitted it or not. “What about his medicine? How often does he take it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“One pill every six human hours, they’re the white gel capsules that are rationed out on the table by Prime’s med-berth. I just gave him a dose, so don’t get him another one until three in the morning. He also needs to drink plenty of energon, coolant, and lubricant to get better, so make him do it, even if he gets pissy with you- shove it down his throat if you have to... But those are all things that I already told him, and he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. I don’t need you in there to take care of him so much as I need you to stay in there to make sure he doesn’t get up and do anything stupid. You know how he gets when he’s sick.”

“Unfortunately, I do...” You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. It was going to be hard dealing with Optimus- hell, you could already imagine how he would be trying to sneak out of the med bay to go on patrol or trying to make you bring paperwork for him to do. You wouldn’t allow either, but considering how much larger he was than you, you’d have to convince him to relax instead of just being able to hold his aft down like Ratchet or Bulkhead could. “I’ll make sure he stays put. I’m assuming you’re taking over leadership until he recovers, Ratchet?”

“As the team medic, I’m second in command, so yeah... I have to. I’d let Prowl do it, but Primus knows he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t let Bumblebee or Bulkhead within a ten mile radius of any form of responsibility like this. I’m really the only option.”

“Right...” You imagined what a patrol without Optimus, led by a stressed and grouchy Ratchet would be like, and then cringed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

With that, Ratchet withdrew his servo from your shoulder and waved at you before turning around and walking down the hallway. You figured that Optimus shouldn’t be left alone for too long, so you quickly entered the med bay and shut the door behind you.

It was dark, with a small night light plugged into the walls that illuminated the room just a bit. You could see Optimus, who looked uncharacteristically pathetic, weakly laying on a med berth with a small side table on the ground next to him. On the table were some energon sticks, a cup of coolant, and the white pills that Ratchet had mentioned. 

“(y/n), is that you?” Optimus asked, trying to sit up, but immediately groaning in what you assumed was pain and flopping back down. His eyes squeezed shut, a strained grimace taking over his face-plates. You pulled one of the stools by a wall-counter to the side of the room where Optimus’s berth was and put it right by his side table so you could sit by him. You were close to his face, so you leaned down to look at it as his optics slowly opened back.

He was sick, and it would take at least a few days if not a week to recover; you could tell just by looking at him. His ocean-hued optics were abnormally dark and foggy, his powder blue faceplates were stained dark with heat, and though he wasn’t steaming like Ratchet had described this morning, there was definitely still heat radiating from his frame.

“Yes, Optimus, it’s me... I’m here to watch over you,” You leaned in to kiss the top of his helm, able to feel just how hot the metal felt against you. When you pulled back, you frowned at the absurd amount of heat- almost hot enough to make your lips sting, while Optimus’s normal temperature was a bit cooler than that of an average human’s by a degree or two. “Ratchet called me down here and told me what’s going on a bit ago. The team’s on patrol right now.”

“Slag, I can’t believe Ratchet told you,” Optimus groaned again, this time in annoyance instead of pain. “I told him not to earlier when he was fixing my vents... He’s probably going to tell the rest of the team, too. I have to get up and go supervise the patrol-” He forced himself to sit up this time, forced back a wince, forced his optics to open fully, but the second you pressed a rushed hand to his chest plates and attempted to push him back, he froze.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You argued, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as a pout formed on your face. 

“Oh, yes I do!” The Autobot argued back without hesitation, but didn’t actually move to push your hand away or leave even though he was fully capable of doing so, only resting one of his servos on the one of yours that was on his chest- stumbling and overheating or not, he was much larger and much stronger than you. Then again, he probably knew that Ratchet would beat him to a pulp the second he recovered if he dared lay a single digit on you to escape the med bay. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t want it nor do I need it, and I certainly don’t want it from my team. It’s bad enough that you know. I know they’ll start asking questions when I don’t go on patrol with them, and if they hear that I got sick from overexerting myself and not getting enough rest and energon, they’ll never let me hear the end of it-”

“Well, maybe that’s what you need, so lay your stubborn ass down! I did not come here with my hair all fucked up and in this stupid robe in the middle of the night when I could’ve been sleeping just to have you run away from me when I’m trying to take care of you! You getting up right now just drives home how bad you are about prioritizing yourself,” Optimus’s plump and normally soft lips, now chapped from dehydration, pulled together into a tight frown- it was the face he made when he knew he was in the wrong. “You’re getting out of your bed when you’re supposed to be resting so you can go lie to your team and tell them you’re fine when you’re not, and for what? Your pride?”

“No, I just don’t want them to worry for me. I’m already stressed out enough and the last thing I need is for that to contribute to their struggles. They’re all dealing with so many of their own problems, and I’m sick of being a burden to everyone around me...”

Optimus huffed, but gave up and laid back down, much to your relief. He still held your hand, though, and you let him- even if he was sick, you didn’t want him to let go.

“You’re not a burden, and just like how they’re dealing with their problems, you’re dealing with yours. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and respected, and not to insult your acting skills, but... They won’t believe you if you walk out there overheating and struggling to stay standing to tell them that you’re perfectly fine. Ratchet told me how you were stumbling around this morning.”

“I hate that you’re right,” He mumbled, and you wondered why he always had to be so childish when he was sick. 

Then again, as much as you hated Optimus’s stubborn personality, it was a major component of who you’d gone and fallen in love with all that time ago. It was crazy, you thought; just the extent that you loved Optimus Prime to, and how terribly unaware he was of it. You thought it best to keep the fact hidden, as you didn’t know what his feelings were, and he had so much on his plate already... It hurt to think that he didn’t know how loved he was- not just by you, but by everyone around him, who he was always bending over backwards for, completely unaware that they’d do the exact same for him.

“And I hate that you treat yourself like this. Plus, as much as Ratchet threatens us all with consequences for our actions, he’s not going to tell them what’s going on in depth; just that you have a fever and that you’re resting, you know he respects patient confidentiality. He’ll probably even downplay it because he knows that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“No, you’re just trying to reassure me, but...” Optimus paused and let go of your hand, fully settling back into the berth. You took your hand back and looked off to the side, already missing his touch. “I know you want to, and that Ratchet probably told you to spend the night here and take care of me, but I’m alright now. I’ll stay and rest, I promise. You can go to your room to sleep, I know you’re usually not up this late, and I’d hate to keep you up with my problems.”

You didn’t really want to leave him, but you were tired, and you believed his words. His tone was genuine enough.

“Are you sure?” You asked and received a nod in return. So, you stood up and collected yourself. “Okay, if you’re sure... I’ll leave and go get some rest, then come back at three to give you your antibiotics and make sure you’ve got something on your stomach.”

Silence. 

The second you turned around to leave, though, Optimus was grabbing the back of your robe and holding the cloth between his digits, tone low as he spoke again.

“Actually, (y/n), wait... Don’t leave me. I need you.”

You turned back around and looked at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told you seconds before that he was fine and that you should leave to go get some rest so that he could fall into recharge as well? What was with the sudden change of heart? Was there something going on with his physical condition, or was it something else?

“Huh? But Optimus, you said you needed to rest...” You muttered, which earned you a shake of his head in return.

“I will,” Optimus promised. “Please, just stay and don’t question it. I lied to you, I don’t know why, but I can’t be alone right now. Don’t leave me.”

The plead from him was unexpectedly vulnerable, honest, open. You appreciated it, but at the same time, you were concerned about what exactly was going on with him- you felt like there was more to the story than stress and leadership and lack of self-care. While all of that was definitely in character for Optimus Prime, there was something else that he wasn’t telling you about, too. With how close you were to him, it wasn’t abnormal for you to have deeper discussions, but for him to admit that he wanted- no, needed you there with him and couldn’t be alone was something you’d never thought you’d hear in your lifetime.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you tell me to go, then. Thank you for being honest with me.”

With that, you sat back down on the stool and looked at him. A little bit of that light had returned to his optics, but he still seemed like he was in rough shape.

“Thank you.”

Silence again.

Instead of adjusting to get comfortable and slip into recharge, Optimus just sat there with his back against the board of the berth, optics trained on you. It had taken a while to get used to when you’d first met him, but nowadays, you were used to the Prime’s intensity, especially when it came to eye/optic-contact. Still, though, the way he was staring at you now... You couldn’t quite interpret it. Then again, could you usually? Optimus was hard to read sometimes.

“You’re not resting,” You teased, but received a serious response in return.

“I’m thinking, and then I’ll rest.”

“You’re sick, the last thing you need to be doing is overthinking like you always do,” You reached out to him, rested your palm on the side of his face and tenderly ran a thumb over the apex of his cheek. Surprisingly, he leaned into your touch with a smile.

“What if it pertains to you? It’s either I tell you and get my closure, which is daunting, or I sit here overthinking it like I always do.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and flinched. It had been obvious that something was on his processor, but it had to do with you? What was it? Did it have to do with your feelings? Tense, you talked again.

“...Have I done something? I’d rather you tell me.”

“You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

The words were whispered but still felt so loud, filling the room with their impact in a way that made your cheeks hot and your heart beat hard against your chest.

“Your illness must be making you delusional,” You laughed nervously, but Optimus only gave you a sloppy grin and laughed. You moved your hand to the top of his helm to check his temperature, but it hadn’t changed- as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure he was being serious and not having feverous hallucinations like you’d initially suspected. Still, you thought it proper to ask. “Do you feel hot? Are you overheating again?”

“No, (y/n), I’m just in love with you,” Optimus peered at you, smile falling a bit. “I mean, yes, I am sick, and I’m still overheating, but I’ve been in love with you for- Ah, I’m actually not sure how long it’s been... I just know it’s been too long.”

There was a pause, in which the two of you seemed to be processing what important things were said; in the span of just a minute or two, Optimus had boldly laid his feelings out for you on the table, unabashed and proud, the tension that came with two years worth of pining that you’d been doing solved so... Quickly. You were surprised you hadn’t felt your jaw hit the floor.

Had he really loved you the whole time? Or was this a recent development? Why was he only telling you now? Had his stress over his feelings for you also contributed to his sickness?

“I’m not sure I can talk about this in good conscience when you’re so vulnerable,” You smiled back at him, (e/c) eyes meeting his ocean-hued optics as you removed your hand from his head. Shyly, he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It feels selfish, but... I love you, too, and that’s why I want you to rest and get better, maybe not stress out so much.”

You kissed the back of his servo as he pulled it away, earning what you hoped was a blush and not more symptoms of overheating.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t afraid of getting you sick,” Optimus sighed. You were sure that you probably couldn’t catch whatever he had going on since he was a Cybertronian and you were human, but you didn’t want to test that theory, so you left it alone.

“It’s okay,” You reached out to hold one of his servos in both of your hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I can feel the sentiment. Just focus on getting better, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

“Sometimes I fear we don’t- Have all the time, I mean, and I suppose that’s why I finally broke down and did this- I like to believe I’m impervious to everything around me, but I’ve already died once, and every time I get sick, I always think about what will happen if I go offline without telling everyone around me just how much they mean. I didn’t want to be scared anymore, not when it came to you.”

“I...” You stood and got on top of the berth so you could sit next to Optimus, curling into his side. “Me, too.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” The Prime asked and wrapped an arm around you. Gentle. Strong. Warm.

“Would you like me to be?” You asked in return with a tilt of your head.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Optimus looked at you, clearly somewhat doubtful, but you only shook your head with a smile. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just get some rest, okay?”

“...Okay.”

So, you stayed, and when Ratchet walked in the next morning to see you curled up by Optimus’s side on the berth with your (lip/chap)stick smeared on his servos, both of you sleeping peacefully for once, he couldn’t help but think that Optimus getting sick once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

#tfa #transformers animated #transformers #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfa optimus prime x reader #tfa ratchet #ratchet #fanfiction #request #requests

[herofics]

hey, I hope you're doing well! I was wondering if you could do a suicidal female s/o texting their boyfriend goodbye and having him rush home to save them just in time? if it's not too much to ask, one for aizawa and one for kirishima would be incredible, but otherwise just one for aizawa would be great

I did both of the guys and in Kiri's case I'd say they're in their twenties and living together. And sorry this took forever.

Warnings: Themes of depression and suicide and dissociation I guess

~Kirishima Eijirou~

You didn’t know what the hell you were supposed to do anymore. Everything felt like it was falling apart and all the control you had ever had over anything, was slipping through your fingers. You couldn’t deal with this, and you weren’t sure you even wanted to anymore.

You had been pretty much just walking back and forth the whole day. You hadn’t eaten anything, and you hadn’t slept well for weeks. It was all getting to be way too much for you, so you decided you didn’t want this anymore, this shit, this life.

You sent Kirishima a message with only three words: “I’m sorry, goodbye”

Kirishima was working late at his and Bakugou’s agency, but this was the last night he would be doing so this week, since he had arranged himself some time off.

“I’m gonna go now, (Name) is waiting for me at home” Kirishima waved at Bakugou, who was still stuck behind a mountain of paperwork.

“Yeah, just fuck off and leave me here with this shit” Bakugou growled.

Kirishima felt bad for leaving him, but not bad enough to stay and help, he wanted to get back home to you.

“You’ll get it done, you always do” Kirishima encouraged.

“Yeah, yeah, just go home” Bakugou groaned.

Kirishima smiled and basically bounced down the stairs of the agency. He decided to finally check his phone, since he had been kind of neglecting it the whole day, not on purpose of course, he had just been very busy.

He had a message from you, it just said: “I’m sorry, goodbye”

“Huh?” he said out loud.

Kirishima didn’t understand, or maybe his brain just didn’t accept the words on the screen, but before he knew it, he was running. Your shared apartment was a few kilometers away from the agency, and Kirishima didn’t stop running before he was standing in front of the door. His hands were trembling so badly he couldn’t get the keys in the lock, so he just opted for kicking down the door.

“(Name)! (Name)!” he shouted.

You had filled the tub with warm water and gotten out the sharpest razor blade you could find. You were just going to step into the tub when you heard someone bust down the front door. You could hear Kirishima yelling your name.

A tremendous amount of guilt washed over you, as you threw the razor into the tub like it was burning your hand. Your legs gave out from under you and you dropped to your knees on the floor.

Kirishima went to try the bathroom door, when he heard a thud inside.

“(Name)? Let me in” he said.

Kirishima tried to remain as calm as he could, but he was definitely having a hard time with that. He could hear you sobbing in the bathroom, but you unlocked the door anyway. You collapsed into his arms as he opened it and clung onto his hoodie like your life depended on it.

“It’s okay, I’m here” Kirishima sniffled as he embraced you.

You and Kirishima sat in the doorway, him holding you in his arms. He was shaking, almost as much as you were and breathing raggedly from the shock and all the running he had just done.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Eiji…” you kept sobbing.

Kirishima just kept holding you close. How hadn’t he seen this coming? Why hadn’t he noticed? He knew you hadn’t been doing well but he couldn’t have imagined you would ever resort to anything so drastic, something so… final. He never wanted to let go of you again.

~Aizawa Shouta~

Aizawa’s phone rang in the middle of gym class, but as he was busy with looking after his students, he didn’t answer and turned the sound off.

You had been on sick leave for a while now, for various reasons, but today everything was especially bad. You felt like a stranger in your own body, your hands didn’t look or feel like your own and you hadn’t spoken a word all day, because your voice didn’t sound like your own either. Shouta had been gone in the morning when you had woken up, it was the start of a new school year after all and he had to go put some kids in their place. You just really hoped he would answer the phone, because you really needed him right now.

You could feel yourself getting worse as the hours went by, and by the time it hit two in the afternoon, you were sitting on the living room couch, staring at your hands.

“Whose hands are these?” you could hear someone ask, and even though you could feel your mouth move, you couldn’t recognize the voice that came out.

Your head was spinning and you couldn’t think straight. You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and wobbled into the bedroom, and started rummaging through the various medications you kept in your nightstand. You just wanted it to stop, you just wanted it all to stop.

When you found the medication you were looking for, you opened the bottle and poured the contents on your hand. They were such small pills, harmless in small doses, beneficial even, but with the amount you were about to take, they were anything but harmless. You downed the whole handful, and washed them down with some water. When you laid down, you placed your phone next to your face and dialed Shouta.

He had just let out the last class of the day, and had picked up his phone just in time to see you calling.

“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t pick up earlier, but I’ve been busy with the new class and-”

“Shouta...” you sobbed into the phone.

“I’m coming” he said without hesitation.

He had had a pit in his stomach the whole day, ever since he left you in the morning, he had forced himself to ignore it the whole time, but now he regretted it. Luckily though, your house wasn’t very far from UA and he got there quite quickly.

He dashed straight up the stairs and into the bedroom. You were laying there, crying on the bed.

He sighed in relief, because you didn’t seem to be hurt, but he quickly noticed the empty pill bottle on the floor next to the bed.

“No” he whispered.

He quickly knelt down beside the bed and grabbed the empty medication bottle from the floor.

“How much did you take? How many were in here?” he asked frantically, waving the bottle in your face.

You had a hard time keeping your eyes open. When Shouta talked, it sounded like the voice was coming from somewhere very far away. You managed to lift your hand and put it on his cheek. You brushed his cheek with your thumb before you couldn’t hold your hand up anymore. Your eyelids felt so very heavy and you couldn’t fight the darkness anymore, so you gave in. You lost consciousness.

As your hand went limp, Aizawa took a deep breath. He was a pro-hero, he was supposed to be able to keep calm in any kind of situation. He grabbed his phone and dialed the emergency number, telling them what you had taken and that you had fallen unconscious.

When you woke up, your head was pounding and you felt like you were about to throw up. You weren’t sure where you were, but you were pretty sure you were laying on a bed. You had a hard time getting your eyes open but when you did, you noticed the room you were in was only dimly lit.

You looked around a bit and noticed Shouta was sitting on a chair next to your bed, just staring at you. He looked so relieved, but also like he wanted to punch the nearest wall, his expression quickly changed to a more gentle and worried one though.

“You’re awake” he said and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his face and pressing his forehead to your hand.

“I-I’m sorry” you said and looked down, you couldn’t look at him, you felt too ashamed.

Your tears were falling on the covers and you were looking at your other hand. What had you done? Why had you done it? You could only really give a satisfactory answer to the first question.

“What were you thinking?” Aizawa asked as he lifted his head, but didn’t let go of your hand.

“I don’t think I was, not really” you said, still not looking at him.

“Hey, look at me” he said and grabbed your chin gently, trying to turn your head towards him.

You turned your head, and he could just feel his heart break. You looked so hurt and guilt ridden, but above that, you looked tired. How hadn’t he noticed the look in your eyes before now? Your eyes had darkened and it looked like there was no light in them anymore. You looked so… hopeless.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see this coming, I’m sorry I don’t know how to help you” Aizawa said with tears brimming in his eyes.

“You have to know that this isn’t your fault or responsibility, it’s mine and I’m so sorry to have burdened you with this” you said, wiping away his tears with the sleeve of your shirt. “I love you Shouta”

“I love you too” Aizawa said and kissed your hand. He swore in his head that he would do everything he possibly could for this to never happen again.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #aizawa shouta #kirishima eijirou #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha angst #mha angst #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #suicide tw #depression

[red-archivist]

Not quite part of the liveblog but, lil post-092 hc fic :3

~~ 

As he leaves Elias’ office, Jon’s feet automatically take him down the stairs leading to the archives.

  It is a habit that his long absence hasn’t managed to break but he stops himself from walking straight into his own office.

To do so, he would have to pass the open space where the assistants work, and call him a coward but he just isn’t quite ready to see the state that Elias’ little reveal has left the others in.

  He retreats to the breakroom instead, keeping the lights off and taking a moment to take a few steadying breaths in the cool darkness.

As soon as he stops moving, the injuries he has been ignoring loudly make themselves known.

The constant ache of his burned hand provides a low steady hum of contrast to the staccato pulse of his throbbing throat.

He needs to clean them both up in order to avoid infection, and if he doesn’t want some concerned passer-by to call an ambulance on him when he leaves, he will have to bandage his neck as well.

He walks to the nearest press and begins rooting around for the first aid kit. It doesn’t seem to be where he last saw it months ago and a stumbling search in the dim light reveals nothing to him.

Jon is about to give up and just try to give himself a bit of a rinse in the sink when suddenly the door creaks open, and the lights click on behind him.

He whirls around with his heart in his bloody throat expecting something to pounce on him. Perhaps it is Tim come to take his weary anger out on him? Or Daisy aiming to finish what she started? Or maybe Elias with some other unsolvable puzzle to dump into his lap?

The fright only lasts an instant however, when he sees who is standing in the doorway looking even more surprised to see him.

“Martin,” He sighs with relief.

Martin’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to find his voice.

“Uh, h-hi?”

“…Hi. Did you- Ah. W-Was the first aid kit moved?” Jon points to the mess he has made of the open presses.

Martin jumps in place before rushing forward.

“Oh! Uh, y-yeah, sorry!”

He crouches down to pull the kit out from under the sink and when Jon raises a questioning eyebrow, he shrugs meekly.

“Melanie moved it,” He says, “She said we all had to be able to reach it in an emergency.”

“Right.”

He takes the box from Martin with just one hand, keeping the bandaged one away from his body at an angle so it won’t bump into anything.

  It’s a heavy, clunky thing and hoisting it onto the counter makes his joints sting. Ignoring the pain, he flips the latch and starts rummaging through it. A thin roll of bandages, antiseptic cream, gauze and dressing are placed in a pile on the counter as he mentally goes through the half-remembered steps of cleaning an open wound.

Just as Jon starts to unravel the hand bandage, the side of his face burns with awareness. He looks over to find Martin staring at him.

  His gaze lingers on his hand, taking in the old bandages and his cracked nails, both still caked in grave dirt. Jon does his best not to squirm under the scrutiny.

 When Martin’s eyes dart to the mound of medical supplies Jon is compiling, he also realises he is taking up most of the counter space.

“Am I… in your way?” He asks, about to sweep it all to the side.

Martin starts, as if he just remembered where he was and stammers as he turns away from him

“N-No! Sorry, sorry!”

He fusses with the kettle, taking out mugs as it boils, and does not face Jon again.

Jon is glad for the privacy. He doesn’t want to look at his own hand any longer than he has to, no-one else needs to see it.

As he peels the rest of the dirty wrappings off, they catch on his ruined skin and he can’t quite hold back a pained hiss. The burn is still dreadful to see, blistered like bubbling wax and so red it’s almost black. It weeps a clear discharge, making the whole thing reek a fluid, animal smell.

  He rinses it off in the sink, pats it awkwardly dry, smears the whole thing in antiseptic cream and clumsily wraps it up again. It’s a messy, slow process and he barely remembers to clean his other hand as well.

Martin stays stock still as he works, standing guard over two brewing mugs and, as he glances at him, Jon can practically see the questions he wants to ask in the stiff line of his shoulders.

  Jon feels both grateful and guilty that Martin holds his tongue. He owes him answers but his mouth is so tired of talking.

Tentatively, he starts prodding at the cut on his neck. It is long but shallow, already clotting. He can feel the skin around it is tender with a blossoming bruise. Daisy wanted it to hurt.

Jon pries his mind away from that thought. If he thinks about how close he came to dying today, he won’t be able to keep himself standing, nevermind clean up.

He just needs to get through the next few steps, and then he can go back to Georgie’s, lay down somewhere quiet and try not to have a complete breakdown. Laying out gauze and dressing, he wets a clean tea towel. He is halfway to raising it to his neck before he realises his mistake.

“Damn.”

“…Jon?”

Martin is peering over his shoulder at him, concern drawn in deep lines around his face.

Jon blinks back at him. He had almost forgotten he was there.

“I… uh,” He waves the tea towel, “I need two hands, should have done this first.”

He is going to ruin the clean wrappings on his hand. He will either have to do them again or wait to get back to the house and hope Georgie won’t be too pissed off to help him. Clucking his tongue, he weighs up his options.

“Um… Do you…” Martin’s soft voice cuts across his thoughts, “I mean, I can… i-if you want?”

“What?” Jon turns and sees him holding out a hand for the tea towel, “Oh.”

“O-O-Only if you, y’know, you’re comfortable with…”

  Jon stares at him for a moment and regrets flickers across Martin’s face. He starts to draw his hand back.

“Uh, yes, no, I mean, I-I appreciate…” Jon stammers, “You don’t have to. I-I don’t want to interrupt… what you’re doing…”

The sheepishness fades from Martin as he chuckles slightly.

“I just came in to get a bit of a break from everyone else, really,” He immediately winces, “God, that sounded bad, didn’t it?”

“No… no, I understand.”

  Martin smiles slightly and Jon’s feels his lips twitch upward in response.

“So, uh,” Martin holds his hand out again and Jon passes him the towel, “Might be easier to sit.”

“Right.”

Jon brings the gauze and dressing to the rickety coffee table while Martin wrings out the towel in the sink. They sit facing each other, and Martin scoots close enough that their knees brush.

“Can you lift your chin?” He asks, “And please tell me if I hurt you?”

Jon raises his head and stares into the yellowing florescent light embedded in the ceiling as Martin starts delicately dabbing at the cut.

It stings, of course. He can feel the edges of the wound prickle with pain as the meagre scabbing that covered them is wiped away. He hopes he isn’t letting it show on his face.

It is a little uncomfortable, letting someone else touch his neck. Especially someone he hasn’t seen for over two months. He peers at Martin out of the corner of his eye.

  He looks exhausted. There are heavy bags under his eyes and the light from above washes him out terribly, making him seem even paler than usual. His hair has grown a bit, more from neglect than choice. His fringe droops over the frame of his glasses.

Guilt bites at the back of Jon’s mind. Without him here, he is almost certain Martin has been doing the lion’s share of the work in the archives. Melanie is only new to the position and Tim… Jon is doubtful Tim has been working at all.

  Martin mumbles a pre-emptive apology as he moves the towel slowly over the cut. His touch is soft but steady, gentle in a way that is completely alien to Jon.

Martin’s gaze is focused on Jon’s neck, intent on washing away every speck of pain scrawled onto it. Instead of the sting of the wound, Jon feels something in his chest ache.

He can’t remember the last time anyone was this careful with him. That thought, more than the pinch of physical pain, makes his eyes water.

He blinks rapidly and rattles his brain for anything that will keep his mind off of how tender Martin’s touch is.

His mouth runs ahead of his head and he tries not to swallow too hard as he speaks.

“Martin… ah…”

“Sorry, am I pressing too hard?” The pressure on his throat eases slightly and Jon wills himself not to chase after it.

“No, no, I just, ah, I wanted to-” Jon bites his tongue in his haste to speak, “H-H-Have you been getting on alright?”

The pressure disappears entirely as Martin reels back to gawk at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. Jon might be offended at his surprise if he wasn’t too busy kicking himself.

He keeps babbling before Martin even has a chance to respond.

“God, that’s stupid- stupid question, of course you’re not-!” He sighs, “Just- Ignore me. Apologies.”

He looks back up to the breakroom lights, his face burning hot.

Martin chuckles.

Jon dares to glance at him.

The surprise has faded into something softer, a not-quite-there smile lingering on his lips.

“Yeah…” He agrees quietly, “That… is pretty stupid.”

“Well-! Pardon me for asking,” Jon snaps.

Martin’s smile grows.

“I’ve… I’ve got a pretty stupid answer for it though?”

“Uh,” Jon leans forward in his seat, “Yes?”

“Despite um, well, all of it…” Martin swings a hand around the room, “It’s… It’s really good to see you, Jon.”

He stares.

  It’s Martin’s turn to try and hide from the scrutiny. Jon watches with fascination as he starts to turn a blotchy red.

He doesn’t understand. The last time they spoke, Jon gave him nothing but a weak apology after suspecting him of murder and invading his privacy for months. Martin should be angry at him, or maybe even afraid. Jon doesn’t want him to be, but he would understand if he were.

Instead, Martin sits in front of him with a shy smile and soft hands, helping him, missing him. Jon can’t possibly understand that.

He opens his mouth without any clue as to what to say.

“That… doesn’t actually answer my question?” He says weakly.

Martin laughs. Not a chuckle or a giggle but a full-throated belly laugh. It is a sound Jon has never heard from him before. His face feels even warmer.

As soon as he calms down, Martin shakes his head before delicately placing his fingertips on Jon’s chin and tilting his head upward.

“I guess not.”

He finishes cleaning and dressing the wound in silence. When he presses the dressing against the cut to make sure its smooth, Jon can’t help but shudder.

A frown crosses Martin’s brow.

“Don’t suppose I can convince you to see a doctor about this?”

“You suppose correct,” Jon sighs.

Martin clucks his tongue but doesn’t push him any further.

Jon is overcome with the sudden desire to sit in this chair for the remainder of the afternoon, resting in Martin’s half-joking disapproval with their kneecaps just about touching.

He is also keenly aware that that desire isn’t something he can afford to indulge in.

With a weary groan, he hauls himself upright.

  “I… appreciate the help.”

Grabbing the now-stained tea towel, he turns away to toss it in the sink.

“O-Oh, uh, sure, anytime,” Martin says automatically, “Well, n-no, not anytime- I didn’t mean- I don’t want you to get hurt again or a-anything!”

“It’s fine, Martin, I know what you meant.”

He puts the first aid kit back under the sink and pats his pockets to make sure he has all the things he came in with. It’s not much.

“Right, I won’t be back today, but I’ll be in the office tomorrow.”

“You’d better not be!” Martin exclaims, suddenly loud.

Jon blinks at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re hurt! You need rest!” Martin squeaks indignantly, “Proper rest, Jon not just a half-day off!”

“I- Wh- You can’t stop me coming to work!”

“I bloody well can!”

Jon boggles as a memory suddenly strikes him full-force. He had tried coming back to the archives early after Prentiss’ attack as well, hadn’t he? Martin had practically carried out of the building. At the time, it was just another reason for Jon to be suspicious of him. Now, he can see it for what it was.

  Martin cared.

  He still cares, whether that care takes the form of washing his wounds or scolding him for his poor work-life balance. It’s not a feeling Jon is familiar with.

Martin still sits at the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest, colour high in his cheeks. With a wistful smile, Jon decides to let him have his way. It’s paltry thanks for his ministrations, but it is all Jon has.

“Alright.”

Martin’s glare vanishes under his shock.

“Alright?”

Jon nods.

  “Alright. I’ll rest.”

“Oh! Oh. …Good!”

“It’s what, Friday now?” Jon says, “Maybe I’ll even take the weekend off.”

“Wow, let’s not go overboard,” Martin grumbles.

Jon snorts, hiding his laughter behind his bandaged hand. Martin smiles brightly and somehow, gets even redder.

“I’ll see you Monday.”

“Y-Yeah.”

Jon heads for the door. His feet are like lead weights and he already knows he is going to have to stop himself from napping on the tube. He can sleep properly once he is back at Georgie’s. It might even be nice to rest, for once.

He pauses in the doorway, glancing back.

Martin has stood up, his arms still crossed even as he flicks a hand up.

“See you.”

As he stares at him, Jon’s chest aches again. He is overcome with the urge to speak, as if that will ease it.

“For what it is worth… It is really good to see you too.”

Martin’s face goes slack with a look as soft and tender as his hand was on Jon’s throat. It makes the ache worse.

Jon turns away without another word, knocks once on the doorframe and walks away.

  As he heads for the stairs, his hand still throbs, and his neck still stings but it is the hurt in his heart that distracts him. The sound of Martin’s laughter echoes in his head and Jon thinks that this particular pain is one he doesn’t mind keeping.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma 092 #tma fic #the great tma relisten #listen. has this scenario been written about more than once? yes. do i care? no. #you will get my interpretation and you will like it #the boys are PIIINNNNIIINGGGGG

[neptune-midheaven]

ASTRO NOTES 🪐 🧿✨🌌

*THERE !!!!!! IS !!!!!! NO !!!!!! BAD !!!!!!!PLACEMENT !!!!!!! IN !!!!!!! ASTROLOGY !!!!!!!PLEASE STOP FEAR-MONGERING THESE POOR NEWCOMERS PLEASEEE !!!!!!!! CHALLENGING never equals BAD !!!!!! If you’re a true student of astrology this would be a well know FACT to you.

*Saturn and Capricorn placements are the areas you will slowlyyy become wise in, having developed compete mastery over that area with TIME.

*You usually get compared with other people who share your rising sign.

*Most scorpios/scorpio risings have dark complexions, they even could have almost a permanent shadow cast over their faces, they may struggle to find perfect lighting.

*Virgo in 6th house are hypochondriacs and are paranoid/worry a lot about their health. They’re very nit-picky about their “symptoms”, they’re the types of people to know what they’re coming down with when they’re already at a doctor appt., they may as well even EDUCATE THE DAMN DOCTOR LIKE GO AHEAD MRS PHDD.

*Chiron conjunct midheaven is the ultimate healer placement, other chiron placements, chiron in first/aspecting the ascendant, following behind, these people are true healers whether they realize it or not, they’re born to assist and heal the general public. The midheaven, the highest point of the sky representing our reputation and career, what we’re known for. These people generate a reputation for their “healing abilities”, they’re quite literally known as the wounded healer (depending on if Chiron is positively aspected in the chart, this will affect the flavor of their reputation), they will experience pain related to work or matters related to the reputation, their status and authority could be wounded, they can later use their pain to help and heal others. Challenges will be met at work if Chiron is afflicted. This placement also means one will have their pain and wounds projected to the public, the whole world knows your pain.

*Mars in twelfth need to express their energy, their anger and will through the activities of whatever sign mars is located in the chart i.e. mars in aries in the twelfth need to express suppressed anger/anger through physical activity, sports, working out, sex, pisces mars by unleashing their massive creativity, compassion, dreams (this sign, and house combo especially, has many dreams, it’s a sleepy placement for the ideal fiery and straightforward mars to be located in). Mars in twelfth is generally a good placement that could manifest in someone being a dancer or athlete, mainly finding escape through any type of physical activity for fire signs, work for earth, socializing for air and creativity for water. This placement has very gentle, enchanting watery movements if they get into any sports or physical activity.

*Mars in eleventh can be aggressive toward their friends esp if mars is in a fire sign it becomes no joke. Don’t get me wrong, they’re the best humanitarians and what not but they have a reputation of being the “angry” or “aggressive” friend out of most of their friend groups, they’re very competitive and energetic people. However the way they stick up causes, they way they are always seen supporting any humanitarian cause with their whole hearts is AMAZINGG. They’re the types of activists to stay late to a protest, they’re the types to seemingly never leave what they’re standing up for, what they’re supporting because they are SOOO AMBITIOUS AND YEAHH !!

*This isn’t talked about a lot but uranus in eleventh have to be the most comforting and “welcoming” presence out of every eleventh house placement in astrology, with uranus in its home, the house of aquarius, it erases any filter put on what friend is attracted by their social presence as EVERYONE is attracted to them, from any possible and imaginable background or culture and homeland, anyone can trust and confide in their wide openness as their care and concern for society is completely genuine. They are truly the biggest and truest humanitarians, the universal humanitarian that will lead us to the monumental revolution of history and bring humanity to a collective whole.

*Pisces moon, people lovee you. People want to come up and talk with you just because of how interesting and intriguing you are. You OOZE this aura of compelling mystery similarly to scorpio moon. Your innocent playfulness is undeniably charming and you are definitely the life of the party, people want to pay attention to you!!

*Saturn in 11th, you are not an outcast, you are not too strange. You’re fine for just who you are, your individuality is a struggle for you, saturn is restricting you from liberating yourself and merging with society, you can selective or strict with friendships. You teach others to have boundaries and to never trust others too easily, you select social causes with caution. There is never anything wrong with this !! You choose what you support for YOU and NO ONE ELSE. You choose who you wanna become friends with it’s because they have passed the true rigorous test of friendship. When you become friends with someone, you already know you can trust them deeply, your caution is quite admirable !!

*Mercury in 12th is an extremely beautiful placement. The native grows shy of their flawless minds, little do they know they are connecting with the watery depths of the astral and psychic realms of the twelfth, the vagueness of their cloudy thoughts winds them up in wispy sheets of intellectual confusion. Your mind is communicating the brilliant and unbelievable parts of what seems like a dream. You are not too confusing or vague for others to understand your ideas, people await what emerges from this shiny and imaginable abyss of a sleepy mind.

*Mercury in 8th have an intellectual superiority complex of sorts, they analyze a piece of information or thing by tearing through the surface until they find the deepest depths of the truth, they believe this will never compare to other placements as they have dug far deeper into something. Be careful to not assume that someone doesn’t know something you don’t, while it still can’t be true. You always want to know someone, don’t be too controlling about it because you could cause conflicts which you didn’t mean to in the first place. If you know your boundaries and limits and of others’, then you should be fine. This placement is brilliant for investigators, someone who could examine, analyze and evaluate to find the answer others can’t see. They harbor a psychic mind, a plutonic one who knows the weight words can have on people. Fantastically persuasive speakers !!

*Gemini in 3rd, gem mercury have unstable minds, they’re very much prone to babbling, but can easily start up a conversation because they never run out things to say so they’re pretty social and friendly.

*Capricorn moon is an amazing moon sign placement, here the moon is in detriment as the saturn ruled cappy doesn’t get along with the soft, nurturing moon, it’s always gotta work work work, limit, restrict !! There’s never anything wrong with the moon here, just because the moon and saturn can’t get along, just because they contradict each other’s completely different functions never means it’s a terrible moon sign. It just manifests in a completely unique way outside of the traditional service and role of the moon, similarly to let’s say sag mercury as it’s also in detriment, they both manifest creatively to make something new out of the planet’s sign. Back to cappy moon, this moon has the capacity to work as they find fulfillment in getting things done, serving others, but negatively restriction and criticizing. With saturn ruling capricorn here your emotions and wellbeing become restricted and limited, you have felt as if no one understands you, you believe something is wrong with you. Like no one in the world supports you emotionally. But this is NEVERRR true, people love you for how caring, attentive and even funny you are !! You care soo much about others you forget to care for yourself, SOME of you even begin to think it’s normal to ignore what your own needs, nooo you need to STOP THISSS . You deserve to feel great about what you do, your accomplishments, how you care for others, EVERYTHING, and most importantly believe, trulyy believe that nothing’s ever wrong with you !! You’re unbelievably charismatic and overall just.... WONDERFULLL. Ily guys smm you’re amazingly stronggg souls !!!

*Moon in 12th house is an EXTREMELY sensitive placement, these people are little babies on the inside (ilyy guyss you all have my heartt <33). They often felt neglected, not nurtured as a kid which creates their extreme sensitivity to their current surroundings and environment. Their shy moon is always hiding behind the mystical and otherworldly curtains of the 12th because of their sensitive upbringing or personality, it’s takes some time for the little guy to come out. The moon here needs SPACCEEEE. A person who’s a walking sponge with fragile emotions, they’re our emotional and energetic vacuum cleaners of the world, they are helping the world without ever realizing it !!

*Pisces risings are known for being hard to characterize for their ability to naturally adapt to their environment. You can tell if someone has this if they absorb their environment like a sponge, then, react to this energy, you can easily see this energy morphing. It becomes noticeable if there’s a lot going on. Another clue is having trouble defining them based on their first impression, like they could be anything you project onto them, very mysterious and dreamy individuals when you meet them.

*Your midheaven/10th house is what you look up to be or what traits you wish to embody, ex: aries MC, confidence, passion, courageousness, being a leader, etc. Moon in 10th, being a therapist, helping the less fortunate, medical professions.

*Libra risings usually have amazing skin, just like virgo risings, to contrast, I’ve seen most of them marked with freckles. They have very symmetrical features, perfectly balanced just like a scale. But it appears as if they’re “superficial” once their faces begin to wear into your mind.

#astro notes #astrology #astrologyobservations #libra #capricorn #aries #cancer #taurus #leo #scorpio #aquarius #pisces #gemini #virgo #sagittarius

[onlinehorrorinserts]

A/N: Normally what I’ll write is just snippets of images and scenarios, and that’s what this was GOING to be but I got insanely inspired and just kept going. What better way to get this kicked off than a oneshot, anyway? Eyeless Jack with the prompt “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Trigger warning for descriptions of blood and a wound, as well as it being stitched back up near the end (just in case)

You hadn’t expected this little outing to be any different than the usual. A quick get in, get rid of the target, and get out. Someone had gotten just a little too close to the isolated mansion even despite the failsafes put in place, and it just wouldn’t be safe to let them be with the knowledge of what they may have seen.

Unfortunately, you had neglected to take into account that someone who was probably already scared and insanely paranoid and knew their life could be in danger after the things they had seen would fight tooth and nail to keep themselves alive. You had kept to the cover of darkness for a reason - not only should it have given you the clear upperhand, but it should have kept all of the damage to a minimum on both sides.

You didn’t particularly enjoy killing, after all. At least not when it came to innocents who were just in the wrong place at the very wrong time. It was simply a means to an end, something that had to be done to protect the family you had grown to love, twisted as they all were. Twisted as you were too, you realized, but the thought was often easy enough to shove aside.

Needless to say this was something of a routine for you. Something that should never have had the opportunity to go so wrong - yet that’s the very reason you must have grown complacent. What was usually just a quick get in and get out plan turned into a literal stab in the back and the rather aggressive fight that ensued after. The only thing on your side was the utter shock the victim had upon noticing how human you seemed to be compared to whatever he must have seen out in those woods. That realization had killed his resolve for just long enough for you. Humans could be fickle - if they weren’t like you, if they weren’t used to having the resolve to do what needed to be done, they could falter. You didn’t.

You knew the wound probably wasn’t deep enough to kill you. You’d have to seek treatment though. The idea made your skin crawl more than the feeling of blood oozing into the torn fabric of your clothing. It wasn’t who you had to seek out that frightened you. If anything you would have been a bit more comforted by his presence by this point. No, it was the idea in general. Hospitals, doctors, anything related to the medical field gave you tunnel vision in the form of a very rapid fight or flight response. It wasn’t something you’ve been able to control for a long time.

When you returned to the mansion, you were thankful that not many seemed to be out and about, especially not him. A couple of the guys were lounging on the couch or the chairs in the living room, playing games and cracking jokes a bit too loudly to fully notice you enter, except for Jeff who threw a casual nod your way. You offered a small smile in return, waiting for him to return his attention back to the others before you dared turn your back and crept up the stairs. You didn’t want them to see the wound and were thankful when you heard no words calling up after you to indicate that they had.

Only once you were in the safety of your room did you let out a sigh of relief, reaching to your back with a strained wince to try and gauge the damage. The amount of blood that covered your hand when you pulled it back was enough of an answer. 

You knew you had to go see him. You weren’t stupid. No matter how close the two of you grew though, the idea of descending into his basement, penetrating into his bubble of personal space… it felt wrong. Even knowing that no one else seemed to care, and he was technically something of a designated doctor for them all and it was sort of one of his jobs… you couldn’t feel comfortable with it. Or more likely it was for less selfless reasons like that and more your own fear piercing your heart worse than that knife had pierced flesh.

Not much time was given for you to debate with yourself though as you heard a knock at the door, jolting you back into reality as you stared at the knob. It didn’t seem as if anyone was going to take the initiative and just come in. Maybe you could just leave it and they’d get the hint? Another knock was soon to dispel that hope as you sighed, forcing yourself to go answer it. As much as you hated the idea of having to clean it later, you used your bloodied hand to hide it from your visitor.

It soon became clear that it was all for naught though as your eyes met with the familiar deep blue mask, an inky blackness where eyes should have been and a gunky tar like substance slowly trailing down the mask, long ago having stained the fine blue like oil in water.

“So you are back.” The muffled, vaguely distorted voice spoke matter of factly, not afraid to show a vague irritation in the way he crossed his arms. You sheepishly smiled despite yourself.

“What, were you watching for me or something?”

“You know how good my hearing is.”

“I thought your basement was soundproof?”

“And who said I was in the basement?” He had a point, you realized. You had merely assumed he was down there after not seeing him in the front room. As reclusive as he could be, it was likely he had just been in another room. He knew he had you there and so he turned and began to head back down the hall towards the stairs. With a defeated sigh all you could do was follow him.

You kept quiet as you followed him back down and through the front room, the boys pointedly watching as you passed. Had they not noticed the blood before, they certainly did now, and it was Jeff to make that all the more clear.

“The fuck happen to you?” He asked with a cock of his head, perhaps genuinely curious despite his more blunt tone. You were about to stop to respond, wanting to take any opportunity to prolong the inevitable, but predictably it wasn’t going to be that easy. When you slowed, Jack immediately shifted to grab your wrist and with a light pull, ushered you forward and ahead of him. The message he was giving you was clear, and with a soft huff you continued on while he stayed behind, no doubt to talk to the scarred boy.

The descent down the stairs was never very easy to get used to. As soon as you hit the first step you felt the warmth from the house seemingly leave your body as the chill penetrated nearly to the bone. You knew the cold didn’t bother him like it did you - in a technical sense he was scarcely what you could even call alive. Not like humans were alive, at least. The cold was better for his specimens anyway. No use complaining. 

You were at least thankful that he had gotten into the habit of leaving at least a dim light on when he knew that you would be coming down. Just because he didn’t need them to see and not wipe out on the stairs didn’t mean that you didn’t, after all. Once you had found your way down, you went to take a seat on his bed, pulling the sheets up and around you. You didn’t care that you’d get blood on them. He had plenty of spare sheets anyway, considering he had to constantly change them out if he didn’t want to be sleeping in… whatever that substance from his eyes were. He was a bit more hygienic than that, thankfully.

You weren’t sure how long passed before you heard his descent, feeling a shaky breath escape you as you did. A mix of anxiety and relief crossed you in that very moment - an odd mixture for sure. A small shiver passed through you. You decided to convince yourself it was due to the chill in the air. 

When he reached the bottom step he faced you, not wasting time to remove the mask. A couple points of his sharklike teeth poked out from the cover of his grey lips, and though he had no eyes you knew his gaze was focused entirely on your own. It hadn’t been long since he had started removing his mask around you. He seemed to prefer the security it brought him. You weren’t sure what vulnerabilities lie underneath that callous exterior, and though you knew him well enough by now to know there was no harm in asking, you decided not to breach the subject today.

“Come here. Sit by the table, take off the shirt.” Despite the cold you felt a bit of heat rise to your cheeks, and if he noticed he thankfully didn’t comment on it for the time being. All you could do was obey, letting the blankets pool behind you on the bed as you stood and made your way over. Once the material was off the cold only felt more persistent. You wondered for a brief moment if you could catch a cold in here if you spent too much time down here.

The feeling of his hand made you jolt, a soft hiss escaping your lips when it caused the muscle to pull. You heard him sigh but noticed the faintest, gentle skim of his thumb against the unmarred section of skin just below the wound. A form of apology gone unspoken.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” He finally spoke as he reached over to the table beside you, preparing a few of his tools. Before you could answer he continued, his slight growl of a voice softening the best he could manage, “slight sting.”

You winced when the needle punctured you, but you were thankful when a bit of relief slowly started to take over. You weren’t entirely sure where he got any of this, but right now you didn’t care. You could only faintly feel the pressure of him working on stitching up the wound, wincing only occasionally if he went a bit too deep.

“You know why, Jack.”

“You’d think by now you’d realize I’m not going to harm you.”

“I never said my fear was logical. Anyway, I also just hate bothering you when I have no idea if you’re in the middle of your… work.”

It was then that he paused, perhaps taking in your words. It wasn’t for long though before he got back to focusing on the task at hand.

“I would prefer it be you who interrupts me than one of the others. At least I know that if you get hurt, it wasn’t a stupid mistake.”

“Careful. Keep that up and I’ll make excuses just to bother you.”

“If you want to see live dissections, be my guest.”

You cringed at his words, and while you couldn’t see it you could picture a slight shark-toothed smirk. You could occasionally hear the faint drip of something, probably from his eyes. It seemed he was at least careful not to let any of it drip on you. I guess he must have eaten recently. Your mind wandered, zoning out to the occasional rhythmic sound. That is until he finished his work and pulled back, cleaning the area one last time as he looked it over.

“Okay,” His gaze shifted elsewhere, probably a clock in a darker part of the room but you couldn’t be sure, “Get some rest. By midday you can probably wash up as usual. Until then, keep it dry. No straining the muscle until I give you the okay. If I have to restitch this, I’m not going to be happy.” Though his words were tough, you couldn’t help the slight twitch of your lips. You knew he didn’t mean it. You gave him a small nod and stood, ready to put your torn shirt back on before his cold hand once again gripped your wrist - it was a bit softer than it had been earlier.

“Wait.” He commanded, and though you were confused you obeyed as he went off into a side room. To his credit he didn’t leave you waiting too long, bringing back an extra of his hoodies. It was a bit more worn than his current one, obviously older but the sentiment was still there.

“No use wearing that anymore, but you’re not going up there again without wearing something.” He mumbled, a slight rumble in his chest akin to a feline’s growl or purr. You weren’t sure what that sound really was even now, but you had grown rather accustomed to his quirks. You grinned at him and gratefully took the hoodie, slipping it over your head with ease thanks to the side of it. You noticed as his eyeless gaze shifted subtly elsewhere.

“Thank you, Jack.”

#creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x reader #ej x reader #reader insert #oneshot

[samstree]

Hug a Witcher Day (4/4)

In which Geralt makes plans, but everything goes wrong.

(geraskier, 4.7k,  hurt/comfort, sick jaskier, love confessions, first kiss, second kiss, cuddling, geralt talks about his feelings!)

This story ends here. Remember to give your local witchers a hug!

AO3, previous: [1] [2] [3]

Loving someone is unbearable, Geralt has recently realized.

In the big medical camp, when they can only sleep with hundreds of healers and patients in one big room, their single beds are arranged next to each other in parallel. The night renders the place pitch dark and Geralt is the only one still capable of seeing anything.

Geralt watches Jaskier drift off the moment his head hits the pillow, his breathing calm and his heart slowing.

The bard is tired, but he’s safe.

Geralt watches for a few more moments longer and, gradually, a warm pool of fuzziness begins to gather in his stomach again. He revels in it, in the feeling of loving Jaskier.

He reaches out a hand towards the bard and stops at the edge of the bed, a mere foot away from Jaskier’s sleeping form. The steady rhythm of Jaskier’s human heart lulls Geralt into oblivion but his hand remains there, so close and yet so far away.

That’s how Jaskier wakes Geralt in the morning, with a brush of knuckles, a gentle squeeze on his wrist and a soft, bleary smile. His brown hair is sleep-rumpled and there’s a long pillow crease on his cheek, and Geralt almost blurts it out on the spot.

Loving someone is unbearable.

Loving someone while not telling them is even worse.

But Geralt will tell Jaskier one day. A witcher can’t afford to be a coward. He didn’t get through the worst trials only to be intimidated by a simple human bard. No, the reason he can’t voice those three words is only…bad timing. Jaskier has been through too much in the span of just a few seasons, and yet his smiles are still flowing with patience; he persists with the gentleness that is so distinctly  Jaskier .

Geralt won’t weigh Jaskier down, not until they can pack their bags and leave this city.

And they do.

The end of summer brings the first chill in the air, and Geralt finally leads Roach out of the gates of Vizima. Jaskier follows not far behind with the lute on his back and a spring in his steps.

It all feels like a dream when Geralt remembers being cooped up in one place and isolated from the world, but he walks out of the city as a new man. The love flowing through his veins is the tangible proof of his change of heart.

“Roach must be dying to stretch her legs, don’t you think?” the bard offers when Geralt mounts the mare, her gait anxious.

“Catch up to me?” Geralt asks.

“Always.”

The corners of Jaskier’s eyes crinkle and the sun spills down his hair and threads it with gold. With a gentle nudge, the mare takes off eagerly. The bard’s silhouette grows more distant and Geralt gives up on hiding the lovestruck grin on his face.

*

For a long time, Geralt anticipates he will tell Jaskier in the most dramatic, world-ending way.

After all, the bard does everything so dramatically and world-endingly that anything related to him should deserve the same treatment. Geralt reckons even if he tries to keep it down, Jaskier will find a way to make it the grandest scene there is.

Geralt thinks about doing it in Dol Blathanna, a poetic symmetry to their first meeting that the bard will certainly wax poetic about. The idea churns for two days and suddenly he realizes how terrible it is. The fall will soon render the valley of flowers barren and they’ll just be standing on rocky ground.

So Geralt turns his eyes to the north, where Kaer Morhen must be hiding behind the mountains. Within the walls of the ancient keep, there’s a tower just next to their training yard that he has spent so many sleepless nights in. Standing on top of that tower and watching the stars and northern lights might be the rare moments when he’s truly at peace. It’s when he’s at home.

He silently decides on taking Jaskier home for the winter.

“Why are you taking us this far north, Geralt? Urgh, and why do you have to push me like this? You truly have no pity for me.”

The bard sits on his bedroll and rubs at his eyes at dawn, his face scrunched up with displeasure.

“Hmm.”

In his mind’s eye, Geralt can almost see Jaskier’s face when he steps into Kaer Morhen for the first time, the bard raving about all the songs the ancient keep could inspire and exploring the place with wonderment. He can see the way Jaskier’s eyes would light up under the night sky at the sight of those colorful lights, awestruck and gleaming.

If Geralt was any other man, he would be giddy with anticipation.

And perhaps, that’s why he doesn’t see it when sickness creeps up on Jaskier in the most unexpected way.

Surviving a terrible plague and falling ill right after sounds way too anticlimactic. Jaskier would be disappointed in a twist like this if it’s in a story. It never even crosses Geralt’s mind that Jaskier’s increased complaining is a result of discomfort, of months’ exhaustion silently building up. It never occurs to him that Jaskier, now with his waist and shoulders thinner, might need to take more breaks on the road and wear more layers on harsher days.

An autumn storm catches them off guard and that’s all it takes.

“You got lucky. There’s only one room left.” The man behind the desk throws a pitying look at the bard, dripping on the creaky floor and swaying on his feet. “The rest are all booked for the festival.”

Geralt pays no mind to his remarks. His world narrows down to getting Jaskier into a warm room and stripping him of these wet clothes. He has no choice but to replace them with one of Geralt’s dark shirts—the bard has never been good at keeping his pack dry.

Now Jaskier is shivering under the covers and groaning like a dying animal. His hair is damp from the residual rain and cold sweat, his frame drowning in the too-large tunic.

“Can you light the fire, Geralt?” Jaskier asks through chattering teeth. The blanket is slipping from his shoulders, the open collar exposing a patch of skin and sending a chill down his body. Geralt wraps the blanket tighter around him and looks puzzled at the roaring flame in the hearth.

“It is on. Can’t you see it?” Geralt frowns, confused.

Jaskier’s eyes focus on somewhere far away. The dazed expression lingers for way too long before his head turns to the fireplace. “Oh.”

The worry in Geralt’s stomach grows heavier. He feels for Jaskier’s forehead and lets out a curse when his palm meets burning skin.

“You are feverish.” Geralt continues to wipe away the sweat gathering at the bard’s hairline. “Damn it, Jaskier. Why didn’t you say something?”

The bard leans into Geralt’s cooler touch instinctively. “Well, if you learned one thing about bards, Geralt, you should know that we can’t predict the weather.”

“No.” Frustration seeps into Geralt’s voice. He lets out a scowl. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? You must have been feeling terrible for days if you have a fever like this. Jaskier…”

Geralt breathes out his name and finds anger rising, but not towards the bard. He’s angry with himself, for neglecting Jaskier’s comfort in favor of furthering his stupid plan, for not seeing what’s right in front of him. Jaskier staggering on his feet in the pouring rain stirred up some old fear in Geralt, the fear that hasn’t left him since the day he stepped into Oxenfurt in the spring.

“I guess it didn’t even cross my mind,” Jaskier explains, his voice small and unsure. “We just survived something unimaginable, my dear. I was so excited to go out again. It’s you and—”

Jaskier is rudely interrupted by a coughing fit. The violent wheezing wracks his lungs, causing him to fall forward in a struggle. Geralt catches his limp body in a frenzy and Jaskier ends up with his forehead on Geralt’s shoulder to ride it out, his too-warm breaths fanning over the skin of Geralt’s skin.

“It’s you and me against the world,” Jaskier finally croaks as Geralt helps him sit against the pillows. “All the adventures we missed, think about them. I was just…excited.”

Geralt finds himself kneeling on the bed and a hand’s breadth away from Jaskier’s face, his cheeks worryingly flushed. He looks down to adjust the blanket again to make sure the bard is completely bundled up.

“Excited? And you couldn’t even tell you were sick?”

At least the bard is looking contrite.

“I thought I was just out of shape, with all the pain in my joints and my back. Ugh.” Jaskier squirms in the sea of pillows, adjusting to find better support. “I suppose you don’t have anything for it? A whole bag of witcher potions and none for humans—”

“I—” Geralt splutters. “I’ll, um, get you some willow bark. And a sleeping draught.”

He gets off the bed in one swift motion and works under Jaskier’s curious gaze. The bard is entranced by Geralt’s movement as he boils the water and prepares the tea that he’s been carrying around and replenishing for years.

Blue eyes remain inscrutable as Geralt strains out the shredded bark and scoops a spoonful of honey in the steaming water. He brings the cup to Jaskier’s bed as well as a tincture of sleeping potion.

The bard lets go of the blanket in favor of the cup. He takes a sip and lets out a soft sigh. The honey should be soothing his throat, and it counters the bitterness of the willow bark as well. Geralt leaves him to finish the tea and goes to retrieve his cloak. The thick garment is now completely dry and toasty thanks to the fire, so he gathers it and puts it over Jaskier’s lap.

The bard hands Geralt the empty cup, uncorks the tincture, and downs the greenish liquid.

“ Urgh. Why do all sleeping draughts taste so dreadful?” He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “Should’ve saved some of the honey.”

“You need more?”

Geralt is ready to fish out the jar again but a hand resting on his elbow stops him.

“Don’t waste it, Geralt. I know how much honey costs.”

“It’s not a waste,” Geralt insists.

Geralt sinks back down into the mattress and suddenly Jaskier’s palm on his arm is burning a hole into his bones, and it’s not because of the fever.

“Because you bought it for me?” Jaskier’s gaze grows intense, the question phrased like a statement, like the bard has never been more sure of anything else. “You keep a jar of honey in your pack and only put it in our water after I sing for a whole night. You carry fresh willow bark for my headache—gods know it’s too weak for your metabolism. You have sleeping potions for humans.”

All statements should feel accusatory, but something is brewing like a storm under Jaskier’s unwavering eyes.

Geralt’s ears heat up in the too-warm room. He wants to get as far away from Jaskier as possible to avoid feeling so exposed. It’s almost like Jaskier has stripped him bare and left his heart in the open.

“It’s nothing.”

And that’s the wrong thing to say.

“What? No.” Distress overtakes those blue eyes. “Geralt, you take care of me. You have been taking care of me for years. How can it be nothing? Even just in Vizima, you stayed for me and you were there for me—”

“I wouldn’t just leave you there, Jask.” Geralt says defensively. The bard truly is burning with a mad fever if he thinks Geralt could ever leave him.

A sad smile spreads across Jaskier’s face.

“I know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he answers, half to himself, which makes Geralt all the more confused. He covers Jaskier’s hand resting on his arm and squeezes gently for the bard to continue.

“It’s been three years, Geralt. It’s been three years since that night. Do you still remember? It was the night before we had to part for the winter, and it was so cold. I couldn’t even get my teeth to stop chattering and you insulted my choice of wear, as you do.” The bard rolls his eyes. “I fell asleep in shivers and woke up warm with all my toes still intact. Miraculously.”

Jaskier slips his hand out of Geralt’s before threading their fingers together, his other hand running up and down the cloak on his lap. “You had given me your cloak during the night so I wouldn’t freeze. And when I turned around, you were just…there. Lying on your bedrolls,  cloakless, sleeping, and so far away.”

Geralt stares at Jaskier’s dazed expression and the melancholy at the corners of his mouth and senses his languid heartbeat pick up. He remembers that night, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Why Jaskier thinks it was anything of significance is baffling.

“That was the moment for me. That morning, right before we parted for a whole season, was when it hit me. I—Geralt, I wanted to tell you then, but I was too much of a coward, so I sent you away without knowing.”

Tell me what?

The question dies in Geralt’s throat. Instead, habit compels him to deflect. “But you were cold.”

Jaskier’s eyes are gleaming in the warm candlelight, wide and earnest.

“It’s what you do, Geralt. You save me from monsters and rude patrons. You tolerate my faults and you compel me to do better. You traveled across the continent to see me safe, and you stayed. You  stayed .” Jaskier is on the verge of tears, and Geralt wishes more than anything in the world to erase that dejected look on his face. “My white wolf. My protector. I—I had nothing to thank you for, except for my songs. So I wrote the song, thinking I could show you that way.”

The fire crackles and Geralt asks dumbly.

“What song?”

Jaskier holds his gaze and hums the too-familiar tune of Hug a Witcher, his voice breaking from time to time, growing hoarse by the end. Geralt is pinned to the spot, unable to form words.

“I got the whole continent to do it for me, didn’t I?” Jaskier chuckles tightly but his usual smugness is nowhere to be seen. “But, you see, the whole continent gets to hug you for a day. They’ll get to show you their appreciation. But not me. What a wonderful plan! I guess that’s the price for being selfish, for wanting an excuse to—just to…”

Jaskier trails off, his fingers limp in Geralt’s hand. The silence hangs too heavily as Geralt lets the thunderstruck realization sink in.

As if Geralt has ever cared about what everyone else thinks of him. As if he ever wanted everyone else’s arms around him. Jaskier can never be selfish when it comes to Geralt, never when it counts. He’s being such a fool for assuming and Geralt lets out a frustrated growl.

The bard flinches, and retreats, pulling his legs towards his chest to appear as small as possible. His curled-up form is so small that it looks wrong. Jaskier should take up all the space in the world.

“No,” Geralt corrects him desperately. “No. You are not selfish, Jaskier. You’ve done nothing wrong by me in this—”

“I’ve brought nothing but trouble to your side. The song, the plague…I’ve worried you, and now I’ve burdened you. I—” Jaskier’s gaze darts all over the place, heedless of Geralt’s protest. The delirium is muddling his mind. Geralt panics and wraps Jaskier’s chin in his palm, desperately trying to anchor his bard.

“Jaskier—”

“Will you leave?” There’s old fear in the question. “Am I going to be cold and alone again?”

It must be the fever. Added with the ordeal of the past year, it’s bringing back memories of childhood, of painful days confined to a bed and struggling for survival. He needs to reassure Jaskier, to erase the lost expression on Jaskier’s face.

In a frenzy, he ends up doing it by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s.

The kiss is a hot and urgent thing and it’s over in a second. The bitter taste of the sleeping potion lingers. Geralt breathes into the space between them, his palm still caressing Jaskier’s cheek. A tear rolls down and Geralt catches it with the pad of his thumb.

Blue eyes refocus, piercing Geralt’s soul.

“Geralt?” he breathes.

The name comes out so reverent that Geralt is sure that his heart will burst.  Gods, he loves Jaskier.

“I love you.”

A soft gasp escapes Jaskier’s lips.

“Can you hear me now?” Geralt’s thumb continues to trace small circles on Jaskier’s skin. “Can you hear when I say that, Jaskier, you are not a burden? You are not trouble that I have to deal with. You are not selfish for staying and you will never be alone again, not if I ever have a say in it.”

Jaskier’s limbs unfurl, his arms gradually stretching out from the tight hold over his knees.

"I never wanted to tell you like this. I shouldn’t. Not like this.” Geralt sinks into the presence of his bard and presses their foreheads together. Jaskier stays painstakingly silent and a pang of fear hits Geralt. “Shit, Jask. You don’t need to say anything. I shouldn’t have done it when you are still sick. You know what, forget about—”

“You love me?” Jaskier whispers, his voice so small that anyone but a witcher would have missed it.

“I love you.” Geralt pulls away to stare into the stormy blue of Jaskier’s eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. For longer than I know, Jask. I made so many plans for this moment. I wanted it to be perfect for you. But now, I…I just need you to know.”

He just needs to make it better, make Jaskier better. All the plans are nothing but useless, his fear of rejection too. The sight of Jaskier in pain is enough to chuck every worry out the window. Even if his love is not returned, even if a witcher can never have it returned.

But with a heartbeat and the next, Jaskier has thrown himself into Geralt’s embrace, nearly knocking the breath out of him. And, as if in a fantasy, Jaskier’s lips are everywhere, peppering small, wet kisses all over his face.

“You  are  perfect for me, you oaf.” A smile finally blossoms on Jaskier’s face and their lips meet again.

The second time Geralt ever kisses Jaskier, it feels like coming home. It’s a drawn-out and lazy dance that lulls him into dreamland, only the dream has come true in the solid form of Jaskier’s supple lips against his and nimble fingers carding through his hair. The bard lets out a string of adorable giggles as he climbs onto Geralt’s bent knees and straddles him, the cloak and blanket shoved out of their way.

Geralt is falling.

And soaring.

“Hey, steady.” he keeps both hands on the small of Jaskier’s back to keep him in place.

The weight of Jaskier is heavenly, and the unlaced collar of Geralt’s shirt provides the best opening for him to slowly suck at the junction between Jaskier’s shoulder and neck. The bard ends up a whimpering, limp mess, draped all over Geralt’s shoulder with a shudder running down his spine.

“Do you even know how easy it is for you to ruin me?” Jaskier murmurs breathily in Geralt’s ear. All he can muster for response is another growl.

When Geralt gently lowers Jaskier down onto the pillows again, the bard looks a fine picture of debauchery, with a beet-red flush painted across his cheeks and patches of reddened skin at his neck that will surely bloom into dark bruises. His hair is sticking in all directions and the shirt slips down from one shoulder, his chest heaving from the exertion.

Tears well up in cornflower blue eyes again but this time it’s not from pain. All Geralt can smell is the heady pleasure that is equally affecting him.

“I’m afraid your sleeping potion has kicked in,” Jaskier yawns just in time. “It’s the good stuff, my dear. You spoil me.”

The bard blinks his eyes open stubbornly as Geralt fishes the blanket up from the floor and then the cloak.

“I’ll spoil you more when you get better.”

“Big witcher with bigger promises.” Jaskier is slurring his words but the smile on his face can match the bright afternoon sun.

Geralt curls around Jaskier’s body and drapes the blanket over both of them, the cloak tucked where chill might creep in during the night. When he pulls Jaskier closer, the bard tucks his head under Geralt’s chin and nuzzles ever so slightly.

The urge to kiss is overwhelming, and Geralt realizes that he can.

“Goodnight, Jask.”

His lips touch Jaskier’s eyelid and the bard is out in the next second. There’s still a faint smile on his lips.

* 

Geralt wakes up like this, with Jaskier sprawled on top of him and snoring softly. He brushes back the hair at the bard’s forehead and feels for his temperature. The fever is still running low but it will be gone in a day or so. Sighing with relief, Geralt revels in the sensation of the rhythmic thrumming of Jaskier’s heart against his ribcage.

His attention drifts to what woke him in the first place. A group of men seems to be yelling on the street right under their window. Geralt only catches a few words in the distinct conversation, but from the looks of it they are arguing about…building a stage somewhere.

And then, the word  Saovine stands out.

If they are already building the stage for the performance, and the tavern has been booked up by travelers… Geralt does the math in his head and almost feels giddy when it dawns on him—

It’s today.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day.

The thought doesn’t leave him with the agonizing emptiness that is Jaskier’s absence anymore. Instead, Geralt feels like he’s floating mid-air among the clouds and he may never come down again. He might as well not, since Jaskier won’t be going anywhere any time soon.

He hides a goofy grin in tousled brown hair.

One of the men hammers down on something and Jaskier stirs, inhaling deep and then groaning loud. He arches away from Geralt’s chest with a low growling whine—the fever must still be hurting his back and joints. Geralt untangles their limbs and rests his palm flush against the bard’s lower back where it seems to bother him. He kneads gently, massaging the soreness away. Jaskier lets out an exaggerated moan, his face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

When Jaskier speaks, his voice vibrates deep and nasally from sleep, and it makes something warm gather in Geralt’s stomach. He pushes up the hem of the shirt on Jaskier and places a kiss on the side of his waist before lying down again, face to face with the bard.

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier mirrors one of Geralt’s many hums and looks up blearily through drooping lashes, his smile content and his blush healthier. The bard boops his nose. “What are you grinning at?”

“It’s my day.”

“What day?” The furrow between Jaskier’s brows is too adorable and Geralt is too smitten with it. Eventually, the bard catches on. “ Oh .”

He then scoots closer to tuck a strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear. Excitement sparks in his eyes.

“Can I?” Jaskier asks as if they didn’t just spend a whole night snuggled against each other, as if Geralt hasn’t been ready to say yes since three Hug a Witcher Days ago.

“Yes.”

With that permission, Geralt finds himself on his back with an armful of bard. Jaskier is hugging him so tightly that even a witcher can barely breathe.

“For luck, right?” the bard says into his neck and flings a leg over Geralt’s hip, putting his entire weight into the embrace. “Only the gods know I’ll be needing some for next year.”

“No more scaring me like this.” Geralt mutters half to himself as he runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and pulls him even closer. It’s a near-impossible endeavor since he’s already crushed between the mattress and the too eager bard.

“No more,” Jaskier agrees and rubs his nose into the silver hair pooling on the pillow, humming with buzzing pleasure. “And who would have thought? Destiny can be cruel just as she is kind. It’s today, of all days...”

“Hmm. Who would have thought…”

Geralt inhales the scent of Jaskier, now the sour stench of misery only faint. In its place is the happiness that reminds him of the afternoon sun baked into fresh linens.

“And to think I forgot to tell you yesterday. The most renowned poet on this continent forgot to profess his love. How embarrassing!”

Geralt snorts, but in truth, he doesn’t even care anymore. Jaskier being here, in the safety of his arms and recovering from the ordeal of the past year is more than enough. He can live with the knowledge that Jaskier knows that he is loved. He is loved so deeply by someone who was told his whole life to be incapable of it. Now that Geralt is on the other side, the idea of ever not loving Jaskier becomes an unthinkable thing. It’s like not loving the sun or the earth or—

“You’re thinking sappy things.” The bard looks up and the mirth in his eyes disappears. “And probably bad things about yourself. After all these years, after so many songs and so many scrapes and bruises, you still doubt it. Oh, Geralt. Can’t you see? I wrote Hug a Witcher because I didn’t know how to tell you that I love you. To be fair, I wrote every song for the same reason, but this one…I needed you to feel loved, darling, even if it’s not by me.”

So he got the whole continent to do it for him and dragged every other witcher down with it. Geralt should be appalled by the length of theatrics the bard is willing to go if he doesn’t somehow find it the most endearing thing in the world.

“A love letter. Delivered by everyone but you,” Geralt adds.

“Is it to your satisfaction?” Jaskier purses his lips sheepishly. A sheepish Jaskier is such a rare occurrence that Geralt can’t look away. “My white wolf. My protector.”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s wrist and guides it to his chest, placing his palm right over the slow rhythm of his heart. “That’s one thing we have in common, isn’t it? You protect me too. You guard my heart and my name. You use your strength but not for violence but love. If destiny has ever given me one blessing, Jaskier, it would be you. And you are asking if I’m satisfied...”

Geralt puts the answer in the kiss he presses on Jaskier’s forehead with all the gentleness he can muster. It must be the one-millionth time he’s kissed Jaskier because he can no longer remember not being allowed to kiss Jaskier feels like.

“So, Hug a Witcher Day, eh?” Jaskier springs up with renewed vigor, so fast Geralt amazes that he isn’t getting dizzy. “How should we celebrate?”

Geralt looks at his bard, surrounded by his clothing and his love, basked in the shimmering morning light.

“I believe it’s in the name.” he challenges, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, honey. You know I won’t let you go for the rest of the day, right?” the bard smirks with mischief. “But first, if I remember it correctly, didn’t you say that you had some…plans for your grand love confession?”

Geralt blinks. “Are you always this incorrigible?”

“Duh!” Jaskier shrugs, offended. “Oh, come on! I promise I won’t make fun of you! And I’m sure I can make at least one ballad out of your plotting, my darling witcher. With how much of a sap you are, a whole romance book if I put my mind to it!”

“I won’t give you the chance to make fun of me for the rest of time, bard.”

“But I’m sick.” Jaskier bats his lashes. “It will make me feel better. Won’t you indulge me?”

Geralt cannot believe the bard is already playing this card. What’s worse is that he knows his resolve will break very soon.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day after all, and Geralt finally, finally gets to have the one person he wants the most in his arms. If a little bit of embarrassment is the price for it, he can’t say that he minds that much.

---

Geralt gets lots of hugs. Jaskier gets to tease him endlessly. And I can start new wips!

I was torn between two different ways to end this story and finally settled on this more conventional one. I’ll be putting up the alternative ending soon ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @birdsflyhome @dapandapod @artisanbaguette

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #cuddling #snuggling #hugs and kisses! #sick jaskier #jaskier gets sick but it's unrelated to the plague #jaskier whump #protective geralt #love confessions #first kiss #second kiss #geralt of rivia is a sap #this should be a tag #the other ending is very silly #so very silly

[monsoonblooms12]

Hope (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Ethan and Pooja's thoughts before and after the first time Pooja goes to his home (Set in Book 1, Chapter 8)

A/N: Never thought I would be able to complete this, but here we are! Honestly it is a mess, but I still hope it is an enjoyable mess😃

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.7K

Category: Kinda angsty (??)

Trope(s): And there’s some good ol’ Pining

Warnings: None that I noticed

Ethan:

There was a strange calm in the sky, the moon sparkling milky white. Seconds seemed to drift slowly with gentle ripples, like rose petals floating on a calm pond.

And amidst this ataraxy, was a restless, defeated heart. Every pass of a second seemed like a stab in his already wounded soul, breaking him, making him lose in the game which he thought he had mastered.

The red glare of the traffic light felt like a warning but he was too tired to notice.

He let his mind recall the moments the day brought, throat tightening at one and mind filling with surprise at the other.

How easy it was to tell her about Naveen.

As if it wasn't a conscious decision, just him uttering words prophecied. And how naturally she had offered to help him.

As if they were words practised. Repeated a hundred times in front of a mirror.

In a time when one hand was slowly leaving him, another one was gently lending hers.

Never in years had he thought he would be this enamoured by an intern.

Every word she uttered, every task she accomplished, every case she handled. It felt like she was climbing a staircase of differences, slowly cracking the image of doe-eyed amateurs idolizing him.

An image that had become a constant in front of him.

It was a ploy of the universe, surely, that had twisted the circumstances to be like they were now. Otherwise what would have had the power to unite three generations of mentors and mentees together like that in a single motion?

As the sand from the sand clock kept drifting away slowly, he started to arrange the strings of thoughts in his mind into a neat yarn, all ready to knit the cardigan of recounting the disaster that he had stored like a dried leaf from fall in between yellow pages of an old journal.

There was a chilling silence around him, even if the traffic shrieked chaos outside.

It made him second guess everything, making him think as if he was supposedly making the biggest mistake of his life.

The glare of red seemed to get stronger, almost blinding, painful. He tried to place convincing statements, that he was just letting a doctor know the nitty-gritty of a medical case seemingly impossible to solve. So that he can dream of that ray of sunshine filtering through large boulder-like grey clouds.

So that he can hope.

And every time it struck him that he had been choosing to look at that sparkle instead of the black gloom spread all around because she was in this with him, he felt a numb spread through his soul.

He knew he was letting her in, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Rather, there was nothing he wanted to do about it.

It frightened him, this closeness, this letting go of a cloak of seclusion that he had been wearing for years now.

Why did life have to make him stand at crossroads, make a choice he didn't want to?

It felt as if somebody had made a path of clouds for him to reach the sun, and every time he took a step, he fell. He had never complained about it, living silently in the piercing darkness that held him within its confines.

But this one while, he wanted to shriek. He wanted to complain. He wanted to go against every force of nature that stopped him. Because this time it wasn't just a wish.

It was a need for him.

Unbeknownst to him, the lights flickered and change positions. The red seized to exist and the green came into existence, and it was a glare from behind him that finally made him notice the change.

Barely stopping the overflowing dam of heartfelt emotions, that had finally managed to break the walls he had built piece by piece, with precision, over the years, he rushed past blurry sky-risers, taking a step towards whatever destiny had in store for him.

-----

Pooja:

When she opens her wardrobe, her first instinct is to go for that chic dress she bought some time ago. The thought is quickly followed by a mental forehead smack, and she goes for a casual, everyday outfit instead.

When she followed him into the area of repairs, she would have never guessed that a simple follow of curiosity would spiral into this. She, an intern, going to the home of Dr Ethan Ramsey.

She wondered if it has ever happened before & if it would ever happen again. The answer flashed before she even had the time to ponder. It was a No.

Tying her hair in a casual ponytail, she let out a yawn, a reminder of the long day at work, and of the secret that was trapped in the labyrinths of her mind, threatening to come out anytime.

Bits of the conversation that had got imprinted on the film rolls of her mind, played continuously in a loop, reminding her of the responsibility that rested on her shoulder. The trust that he had placed on her.

She couldn't let him down.

When in hushed, muted tones, he had asked her for the promise, she had given it to him without a thought. She couldn't let him break. She couldn't let him lose.

She couldn't let him down.

Like a mantra, she let the words repeat over and over and over again until they got etched in her heart. And then, with an attempt to centre herself, she walked on to the destination she was supposed to reach.

-----

Ethan:

The cool for the air-conditioning unit covered the entire area, as the clock pleasantly ticked in a monotonous harmony.

The blue ocean of his eyes was in turmoil, waves of reason and feelings crashing against each other, ravaging a storm. The ship of his stood through it all, but he was afraid that any moment now, it would reach its breaking point.

In the distance was a clearing in the sky. A stray ray of gold attracted him, and he went on, never stopping for once. It was her presence.

He couldn't tell if they were words knitted with excruciating perfection with yarns of her heart, or a piece of cloth she had bought and handed over to him, neatly so that he doesn't notice.

But for once, he wanted to believe in the words her mellifluous voice scribbled in the air. For once, he wanted to hold on to that ray, which the clouds of fate threatened to hide.

For once, he wanted to hope.

It felt as if his search was over. A wind had finally gained the power to carry away the blanket of misery and pain that had been surrounding him for years now.

Maybe the forces of nature had finally decided to grant him the wish he made to a shooting star when he was a kid and gifted him with the most precious treasure anyone could ever ask for.

All she did was place a hand on his thigh, but it felt as if she had dragged him from the darkness to the bright sunshine, holding his hand in hers, making him relish the soft touches of flowers petals and rustle of hair along with the gentle breeze.

Is this how it felt to slowly travel through the meadows of affection, gathering flowers of trust, hope and respect to make the bouquet of his heart? One that he had given to her without telling her anything, today?

Is this how it felt to fall in love?

He closed his eyes as if to stop the circle of thoughts that had taken a direction he had been avoiding for a long time without his permission. The gardens his soul was paying a visit to, was dangerous tranquillity, a threatening calm.

And he was afraid, that one wrong step could burn down the entire world of two lives that had got intertwined without each other's knowledge.

He was not ready to take the risk.

-----

Pooja:

The pages of her journal rustled in neglect as she continued twirling the pen in her hand.

She was supposed to be writing in the details of this day, but instead all she could do was recollect fragments of all the conversations she had had during the past hours. A few tendrils of her hair playfully danced in the wind, as she got up and went to stand on the balcony.

She let the milky white shimmer dress her, soothe her as the future stood in a tangled yarn of uncertainty, too difficult to reach.

There was a pain getting etched in her heart, as it sobbed silently for her mentor and grand mentor. Was there really no way out?

A quick whisper from the demon of self-doubt told her that if The Ethan Ramsey could not solve the mystery, how could she, a doe-eyed intern?

She shook her head as if to throw the thought away. This wasn't the time of comparing whose skill set was better than whose. If she had dared to awake a lamp of hope in Dr Ramsey's heart, how could she give up on attempts herself?

In tumultuous times, when there were more chances of defeat than success, she wanted to bear the flambeau of hope that can light even the darkest of nights. She wanted to be the force that would make him rethink his abilities and try again after every failure.

She wanted to be the picture that could fill his heart with hope.

And she knew that it would take every ounce of her strength. Keeping the situation a secret from friends who had always had her back. Always looking at the bright side. Always bearing optimism.

When she had uttered "Promise" to him in the hallway in the morning, she knew what she was signing up for. This time, she would have to be the strength of herself and him. She would have to be the ear he could always whisper to. The shoulder he could always lay his head on. The hand he could always hold when he felt like letting go and giving up.

But she was ready to give it all. No matter how threatening, no matter how dangerous.

She was ready to take the risk.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags🤎 (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @phoenixrising308 @adiehardfan @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo @cordonianruby @gryffindordaughterofathena

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart @mm2305 @kit-rookie-princess

Open Heart (All fics and edits): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010 @headoverheelsforramsey @estellaelysian @shanzay44 @mysticalgalaxysstuff

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#pixelberry choices #playchoices #open heart #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #choices #choices open heart #choices oh #my fanfics✒ #open heart mc #open heart ethan #ethan x mc #ethan x pooja #ethan ramsey #choices ethan ramsey #pooja sharma #open heart book 1 #open heart fanfiction #fics of the week #cfwc fics of the week #oph choices #i told the stars about queue #choices fanfiction

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Should have known better

Prompt: when ur reading fanfic and one character was cooking and the other comes up to them and they start making out and everyones like starting to take their shirts off and the author STILL hasnt mentioned anyone turning off the stove

My first attempt at Dickinette. I hope I did it justice!

Here’s my favourite ratatouille recipe! It’s amazing!

Ao3

—————————

Warnings: mild sexual content & mentions of gun violence, gangs, bullet wounds, fire hazards and unplanned pregnancy

The keys jangled as he took them out of his pocket, the lock clicked open and the old apartment door creaked. He took two steps into the hall, dropping his bag with a thud and closed the door behind him. Running a hand through his long, sweat slicked hair he sighed. Today had been a long day.

A deep inhale inflated his chest, but the black police vest he wore restricted it’s full extension. The smell of a wonderful home cooked meal made his stomach growl. Ratatouille, his favourite.

His heavy boot laden feet created echoing footsteps as he walked into the grey tiled kitchen. His wife stood at the stove humming, the google pad’s screen was lit with the ingredients list. She scooped and flipped the squared vegetable mix before putting the lid upon it for the meal to soften. She turned to her sketchpad, inspired by something unknown. Drawing captured her full attention, her brain’s need to replicate the idea on paper outweighed her focus on her surroundings.

He should have known better. He grew up with vigilantes and superheroes. He should have know never to sneak up on someone, especially if they knew how to fight; although this rule doesn’t count for villains (they know what they did).

For Marinette, it had been a long day of ripped seems and designer’s block.. It was nearing on eight when she finally started dinner. Looking at the clock she sighed, ‘Dick’s working late again.’ She hoped he wasn’t caught up in the shooting across town. Two gangs had a disagreement over territory and many civilians got caught up in it. She wanted to help but she had been banned from heroine duties for the time being. Her last ladybug adventure resulted in a bullet to her leg, which was still healing.

Dick took her to the hospital stating she had gotten caught in the crossfire (which now reminds her they need to restock the medical supplies), and they discovered that she was four weeks pregnant.

In present time she was still well within her first trimester, just starting her second month; and she was feeling it too. Vomiting each morning wasn’t fun, more so when it started happening more frequently throughout the day. Their midwife reassured the young couple that it was completely normal, but if it keeps up to come back as it may become hyperemesis gravidarum which will harm the baby.

Baby.

She was still trying to wrap her head around it. She had turned twenty-four last July and Dick was only older by a year. They weren’t planning on this and they had taken all of the precautions to prevent it. Yeah sure, they were married but it hadn’t even been two years! Her worry for the future faded as she reminisced on her husband’s reaction to the discovery. He was shocked for a few seconds before jumping up and down like a toddler who got a toy, beaming with joy. Tears of happiness pricked his eyes, threatening to spill on a moments notice.

Another symptom that weighted upon her was fatigue. She was no longer a teen who could challenge the world with a pen and a cup of coffee. She was a tired, pregnant adult who had to give away her coffee maker due to the temptation being too strong. No more late night or all-nighters designing clothes and completing commissions. She had to lessen her commissions due to the stressful nature of them but working from home, in her own studio helped. It had been a month since she found out and now she just wanted to hibernate due to lack of energy.

Putting down the spatula, she scooped up the pen, suddenly inspired by the mix of colours; an autumn playsuit came to mind. Biting her lip as she drew, neglecting her surroundings, the blare of the news channel becoming white noise.

She should have known better. She was a superhero, albeit she was benched at the moment, but still! The first rule of ‘herodom’ was to always do the right thing, but the second rule was to always be aware of your surroundings.

Arms wrapped around her waist, a small gasps left her mouth and her elbow drove straight back into her captor’s chest. A masculine groan came from behind her, but she paid it no mind as she tried to get out of the man’s strong grip.

“Mari, Mari! Calm down it’s me” Her husband said breathlessly. Her jab winded him, although it was softened by his police uniform, Marinette’s miraculous strength was powerful to say the least. He just wish he didn’t have to be on the receiving end of it.

“Ma moitié! Why would you do that!?” Her anguished cry caused him to hide his chuckle in her neck. Her heartbeat made its presence known within her chest and her breathing was still shallow. Turning within his embrace, she faced him with a pout on her face, “You jerk, you scared me!” She whimpered, her pregnancy hormones had blurred the line between her emotions causing her mood to flip like a switch.

Dick looked down at her with a guilt riddled face. “Shoot Mari, I’m sorr-“

Before he could finish apologising Marinette tugged him down and connected her lips to his. She leaned back into the countertop, cupping his cheek and jaw with both hands. Dick eagerly followed her lead.

He picked her up, his hands moulding the flesh of her thighs. He had done this before, but took extra precautions this time due to her still healing leg injury. He moved her away from the countertop and sat her upon the plush couch. He hovered above her, lips only splitting for a millisecond for air before closing the gap once more.

Marinette pushed on his shoulder and swiftly flipped him so that she was on top. The quick motion caused his head to slam back into the wall, the noise halted their make-out session. Her eyes widened, the cloud of lust had evaporated and rained down on her parade. She apologised multiple times to him, eyes watering in the process.

Dick just laughed before pulling her back in for another kiss. In contrast to the sloppy wet kisses before, the gentleness off Mari’s lips now made him feel like he was made of glass. She filled it with her remorse over hurting him. But as the kiss continued it shifted back to the momentum and passion they had before.

Her hands trailed up his chest, she shivered into the kiss; he had just taken off her shirt, leaving her in her bra. His thumb brushed under the mound of her breast, he felt her furious heartbeat through he skin.

Her focus lowered to his bare neck. Placing kiss upon kiss there and biting occasionally, leaving a trail of pink marks for his colleagues to see during his neck shift. A hand ran down her back as it arced, pushing her bosom into his chest.

They broke apart, foreheads pressed together, bodies flushed against each other’s. She peppered his face with kisses, “I love you”s were stated after each. He returned this action with the same fervour.

Something was wrong though. It was a sudden onset plaguing thought that something wasn't right. They had tried to ignore it but it had become like a tugging string tied around their hearts, signalling an oncoming danger. Wordlessly the two scanned the apartment, neither wanting to part from their entanglement.

Confused the two looked back at the other. Neither finding what set off the warning sensation. As their eyes connected, realisation washed over them like a bucket of ice water. They inhaled the burnt air and scrambled apart; both exclaiming “Fuck!”

Running into the kitchen, the tiles were cold against her bare feet. Dark unventilated smoke hung in the air. Upon entry to the room it was a wall of heat, it was a wonder the smoke alarms hadn’t gone off yet. Dick grabbed a nearby tea towel and swatted at the smoke, he shuffled towards the burners, mouth and nose hidden within his elbow.

Marinette opened all nearby windows, she hoped that the neighbours on the floors above didn’t question the smoke. The couple worked together to set up a system of fans to push out the smoke from the kitchen.

“If Alfred were here he would kill us.” Dick solemnly nodded in reply, ‘we should have known better’. He scraped the burnt black char into the bin, while Mari held the pan. Once the pan cooled down enough it went into the bin too, there was no saving it.

Dick tied up the yellow bin bag and placed the spatula into the sink. “Soooo... want chinese? If you’re up for it, it’ll be my treat.”

Her stomach growled as her eyes flicked to the clock, it was almost nine and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast at seven. She nodded, “sounds good let’s go!”

She walked towards the door, hand on the handle when she realised that he hadn’t followed her. Turning back around she saw him staring at her, cheeks flushed, unmoved from his position next to the bin.

“Um babe?”

“What’s wrong Ma moitié? I thought you wanted Chinese.” Her head tilted, confused at his actions.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking away. “Babe you’ve forgotten your shirt.”

“Shit” left her lips as she bolted back to the couch, vaulting over a counter much to Dick’s disapproval. She heard him scolding her from the other room, but was too hungry to care.

Walking back to him, now appropriately dressed, she grabbed his hand, pulling him out the door. He just sighed, following his crazy wife, throwing the bag into the complex’s dumpster on the way to the car.

No one was getting in between her and her noodles.

#maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #marinette x dick #dick x marinette #dickinette #Alfred shivered at the sensation of burning food #Alfred would be disappointed #never get in the way of Mari and her noodles

[kaysayshey]

Hey Kay,

I saw your prompt, congrats on 400 followers! I sent you the questions on the form but I can re do it here if you need. I kept my name there so you may be fine.

The the lyrics prompt “Monsters” by Katie Sky would be cool. For the prompt sfw with some angst and fluff is always good. No rush.

Bnha with the character being Aizawa or Hawks. Who ever may flow for you more.

If you need anything else let me know! Congrats again and good luck on your event!

❝ you've got the chance to see the light even in the darkest night ❞

aizawa shouta x reader, angst to comfort (ish)

recommended listening: ♛ ♛ ♛

it was never meant to be like this. but the reality of heroics also holds the antithesis of it - evil, acts of violence in the name of some greed-fueled fervor. bringing children into it, whether they be training for hero work or not, had you clutching your chest. they were innocence, they were young. they deserved to at least make it to adulthood before being thrust into that all-consuming battle, one that had maintained its consistency for as long as you could remember.

and seeing your husband in the hospital after the usj battle had you cursing the genetics settled in your dna. in his, in every other quirk-possessing individual you knew. it was past the point of no return, each generation wrought with power stronger than anyone should have to bear. and now, with aizawa's eye bandaged up, his body painted shades of purple and red that felt so foreign, you wanted to scream.

low hospital beeps intermingled with his soft breathing were the only sounds in the room. nurses and doctors had come in, checking his vitals, administering pain medication via iv. he'll be okay, everything is going to be okay. but it wasn't going to be okay, nothing ever felt okay anymore. it had been two days. two days without his low rumble of a voice, without a hand ruffling through your hair with his own brand of affection.

day merged to night, the hours on the clock passing by in a blur. the nurses kept offering food, water, anything. but nothing would make the ache go away, take away the reality of the situation. you could have very well lost him, and then what? you shook your head, fasting during this odd and unwelcome vigil. the colors of the sky cast shadows onto his face, the colors only serving to remind you how long you had been waiting.

yellows to reds, reds to violet, and violet to a deep indigo, one that pushed your eyes closed. resistance was futile - they hurt, bloodshot and heavy by your own insistence. when they finally shut, your dreams were fitful, unwanted memories of every time he had come home battered and rundown to you replaying like a horror film. the colors faded into black and white.

you don't know how long you slept. hours mean nothing in the land of dreams, and you weren't privy to its mysteries and fickle rules. but you let yourself be awash in its darkness until the realities of life brought you back.

a low murmur of your name had you groaning, your head throbbing from days of neglecting your own needs. fuck, what could anyone possibly need from you, you were waiting for him, he was-

"jesus, y/n. what happened to you?" aizawa's familiar voice had your eyes snapping open.

"me?" you bit back incredulously, jaw dropping in utter shock. he had the gall to ask what happened to you? what did they put in his iv? "are you fucking kidding me, shouta?"

that turned the corners of his lips upwards, a gesture so comforting that it brought tears to your lashline. the absolute bastard.

"you look like you've seen a ghost, angel," he replied simply, stretching a hand out slowly to wrap around one of your own. that contact was enough to bring the air to your lungs, as though you'd been breathing at only a fourth of your capabilities from the moment he'd been brought in. "were you worried or something?"

an eyeroll at his teasing. always one to keep your anxieties at bay.

"maybe something like that," you mumbled, your other hand reaching to press against his cheek. gentle, like he was glass. like he was yours to protect, which now... now he was.

"you never have to, angel. i'll always come home to you." a promise, one that he never made lightly. none of his promises were ever broken.

"no, no i won't," you mumbled, unable to hold his eyes. "i'm going to take nezu up on his offer after all."

his unbandaged eye went wide, a look that begged, pleaded for you to take it back. but you wouldn't, not this time.

"no buts, shouta. if you're in this fight, then i am, too. you always protect me, your students, this city. it's time i protect you, too." the words came out stuttered, knowing that this time you wouldn't go back no matter how hard he tried. "i'll be here for you. just like you are for me. deal?"

his eye shut closed, exasperation clear. his former smile had turned to a thin line, but he soon let out a heavy sigh, eye opening to meet yours once more. the small smile came back, a bit more tense this time. but you'd take it.

"deal, angel."

#mha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x gender neutral reader #angst to comfort #kays 400 event #only the lonely survive #for ajaviary #based on monsters by katie skye #pls listen to the recommended songs too!

[damerondala]

Suture Up Your Future

i was watching reservoir dogs last night and that scene in the beginning with mr. orange is so intense i wanted to write some bad batch AnGst that mirrors it (and yes, the title is a queens of the stone age song, im really just snatching ideas from everybody huh lol). im also not too knowledgeable about trauma wounds like this and how to patch them up, but i did my best so pls be nice lmao im a sensitive bitch

Pairing: Platonic Bad Batch x Gender Neutral Reader / Platonic Tech x Gender Neutral Reader 

Warnings: adult dialogue, severe wounds and blood loss, wound suturing, sad batch ™ but with a happy ending! yay! 

Word Count: approx. 1.4k 

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“Say it for me, Tech.” You were met with an agonistic cry instead of the words you needed the trooper to say. Not only to reassure himself, but you as well. “Say it,” you nearly screamed while he lay there bleeding out, “You’re going to be okay, fucking say it. You’re going to be okay.” 

“I,” a sharp intake of breath made his chest heave and a new wave of fresh blood come out of his gaping wound, covering your hands in the warm substance, “‘m guh be oh-okay.” 

“There we go, come on Tech, come on buddy breathe for me.” 

~

Nothing was out of the ordinary when you woke up that day. Hunter asked if you wanted to stay on the Marauder while he, Tech, and Crosshair went on a supply run. Hunter sang his reassurances to you, fully knowing you had a point when you reminded him that this planet was not the most welcoming place for outsiders. Especially the army of the Republic. But Hunter made sure they had civilian clothing to disguise themselves; this was the closest planet you all could get to at the moment, with the little fuel you had, after all. “In and out, just like that,” the sergeant cooed with a snap of his fingers to enunciate the last word of his promise. 

Echo, Wrecker, and yourself gave your best wishes to the group, then retreated back to the hull of the beloved ship. Echo toying with a new prosthetic he and Tech had been working on, Wrecker subjecting poor Gonky to yet another workout, and you occupied yourself with some tidying up. Maker knows that five busy soldiers plus one even busier medic, patching up said soldiers on a regular basis, equaled a filthy ship that was in dire need of some elbow grease. 

What none of you had expected however, was the very early return of the three bad batchers, one of them being supported by the other two. Barely able to walk and blood leaking out of his abdomen. 

Panic set in your gut upon the sight. Wrecker and Echo already in front of you, screaming their concerns and questions while you scrambled back into the ship to clear the table that was littered with empty dishes and Tech’s projects, then sprinting to your medkit to snag the supplies you’d need to treat a wound such as this. Returning to the table just as Wrecker set his vod down on the flat surface that, might you add, was much too small for his six-four frame and much too dirty for the situation at hand, but would have to do. Considering the severity of the scene before you. Tech had an enormous gash — you guessed from some sort of large knife — that ran from the bottom of his left ribs all the way to the front of his abdomen, ending just above his bellybutton. 

“Fucking bounty hunters,” Crosshair growled from behind you but you couldn’t afford to pay him any mind, Tech was damn near about to bleed to death if you didn’t act quick. You could curse the people who did this to your friend later. “Echo, he’s going to need more blood. Get Wrecker hooked up to the blood draw.” You ordered while applying pressure to the gash, Tech’s blood slowing at the contact, but still steadily seeping through your fingers. Normally Wrecker would pout about being hooked up to a machine but the sight of his friend dancing with death made him move quicker than any of you had ever seen, ripping his shirt sleeve up so Echo could begin drawing blood. 

The scene felt like a dream. Well, more like a nightmare, one that never stopped no matter how badly you wished you could just wake up and it would all be over. Instead, you were sweating through your shirt, a few tears stained your cheeks, and you were fucking covered in blood; Tech’s blood, to make the matter even more chilling. Everything happened so fast, you desperately wished you had gone on the run instead of Tech. Maybe that way you could all be sitting around this table, playing cards and giggling at Echo and Wrecker’s bickering over who’s cheating by now. 

“What do you need me to do?” Hunter stepped to your side, prepared to do anything in order to save the youngest of the squad. “Get the gauze and alcohol out of my pack.” You threw your head in the direction of the stocked medpack sitting on the table near Tech’s legs. Hunter opened the bottle of antiseptic and handed it to you, Crosshair on the other side of the table taking the gauze from Hunter’s hand. Ready to stuff the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding more until you could properly suture him up. Dumping the alcohol inside the gash caused Tech to gasp, eyebrows furrowing and body going taut at the pain you inflicted on him. You pleaded with him to relax and help you in reassuring himself that he would be fine. Both you and Hunter continuing the verbal comfort while Crosshair unraveled the pristine white gauze and began shoving it into Tech’s side, dying it crimson almost immediately. The pressure from both yours and Crosshair’s hands did a good job at stopping the blood loss, just enough so you could begin really cleaning him up and sewing his abdomen back together. Hunter helped with handing you the needle and thread and you began puncturing Tech’s skin and pulling the thread through the tissue. 

Cries and mumbles of curses came from Tech’s lips, his face paler than any of you had ever seen before. “Shhh…eh..it,” Tech groaned as you diligently worked at his stomach. You silently thanked whatever celestial  power that was out there for slowing down the blood flow to a much more manageable pace. Crosshair’s efforts clearly paid off, you mentally noted, as you watched his steady marksman hands slowly remove the gauze while you advanced with your stitching. 

“Blood transfusion is ready,” Echo suddenly appeared, ready to start replenishing the blood Tech had lost. “Just in time,” you managed a half-smile, not entirely sure of where it came from. But looking back, you think it was out of hope. 

Tech’s glazed eyes silently caught the way your mouth curled up and he was infinitely grateful for it. To him — and the other members of the squad — you were a beacon of light in the cruel and unforgiving war you all were in the midst of. It was easy to let the darkness and the violence consume them, but the second you joined their squad as their senior medic, there was that sudden sense of hope; you were something that made all of it even more worth it. 

The entire procedure of fixing up your friend honestly was a blur for the most part. One second they were dragging Tech’s limp and bloody body up the ramp, the next you all found yourselves slumped into chairs, over crates, hell, you were nearly passed out from exhaustion on the floor next to the table Tech was splayed out on. His wound clean and stitched to near perfection, and Wrecker’s blood slowly being pumped back into his veins, bringing that beautiful, healthy tan back to his features. 

Being so tired led you to neglect the dried blood all over your arms and shirt. In your haze, you remember Wrecker gently grasping your biceps and heaving you off the grimy ground, urging you to wash up and change. When you began to protest, the gentle giant rubbed up and down your arms in an effort to persuade you, “He’ll be fine, kid. You stitched him up real good. Plus, you know how queasy he gets with blood. He’d want you to get cleaned up.” Just as the final syllable left his mouth, you felt the soft cotton of your extra shirt being brushed against your forearm, Crosshair’s arm extended to you from his place on a ration crate with a nod in your direction. A silent way of showing you he agreed with his older brother — we got him, don’t worry. 

Your squad member’s wisdom proved to be true. Stepping out of the fresher in a new shirt sans sweat stains and blood, and your skin nice and clean, you were greeted with the sight of everybody crowding around their youngest vod still laying on the table. Weaseling your way in between Hunter and Echo, you found Tech awake. Albeit less sharp than he usually is, but still awake. Breathing. Fucking alive. The weight of dread that had been crushing your chest was suddenly gone, letting your lungs fully expand for the first time in hours. A soft hand found Tech’s cheek, the tips of your fingers accidentally bumping the edge of his goggles and another smile gracing your face, this one out of relief. 

“Told you you’d be okay.” 

#i know reservoir dogs is like...the ultimate white boy douchebag movie but i still like it #im taking it back from those bitches lol #and this is my first time writing something platonic AND writing angst I hope it's decent lol im more of a fluff and spicy stories kinda gal #my writing #tech fic #bad batch fic #the bad batch tech x reader #the bad batch platonic fic #the bad batch crosshair x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #the bad batch echo x reader #the bad batch wrecker x reader #the bad batch fanfiction

[kishillaa]

SSM21 Day 17: A Gentle Man

Sakura had to bite her lips when she sees an ebony boy lean against the hospital wall; his hands shoved deep in his pockets of his shinobi pants, one leg is bend for its to stay on the wall while the other one stand to hold his weight. He looks rather tired, especially with bandage wrapped neatly around his head where his forehead protector usually be. She sighs as she approached him. He's too good looking for his own good.

As if sensing her presence – or was it shinobi thing? Maybe Sasuke mentioned about it before? Chakra signature was it? — he turns his head to her. He push himself off the wall and face her as if to greet her coming his way.

"Hey." She said, smiling. "I heard you're here."

Sasuke shrugs, "Yeah, caught minor wound on our way back."

"Let me see." She's already reaching up to his wrapped head, putting light pressure where she saw small blood make itself known just above his ear.

"How did it happen?"

Sasuke scoff lightly, and Sakura knows he purposefully dif to avoid telling her it's not for her to know, "It's nothing serious. Come on, your shift ended half an hour ago. I'll walk you home."

Sakura fight back a grin as she nodded at him. He wasn't usually in the village, always busy with his confidential shinobi or ANBU mission, but when he is, he do every thing he missed out with her since they started this, whatever it is, few months ago.

"Have you eaten?" Sakura asked, as he leads her out of the lobby of the hospital, walking side by side.

Sasuke shakes his head, "And neither do you."

Sakura close her mouth with her hand as she laughs. He always knew, "That's true."

They walk together under the dark starless night, with Sakura looking up the sky and him ahead of their route, "So, was it a success again this time?" She asked, as she peaked at him.

"You could say that." He wears his ANBU gear, so it must be a bad stuff –as to what he said– so Sakura refrain herself asking for more.

"How was your shift?" He asked, didn't even try to hide the fact that he was blatantly staring at her.

Grinning, Sakura bounced herself so she's few step ahead of him before she turns around to face the pretty face Sasuke, while walking backwards with Sasuke following with his slow pace towards her.

"It was pretty good. Quite few new experiences. And I actually went through one surgery with a medic nin." She went on, "After all this time, I was still astonished what a ninja medic can do. There's only a handful things civilian doctor does."

"You're already great at your job, Sakura." He had said, "Though, I'm sure you'd be an okay ninja. I can't fully detect your chakra since you don't use it at all, but they are very warm, tame and quite stable. A medic nin will be a good choice if you decided to be a ninja."

Sakura hands clasped behind her back as she stop her pace and leans towards him, "If I chose to become a ninja years and years ago, do you think you and I will be in the same class in the academy together?"

Sasuke however raised an eyebrow at her question. "Probably." He said, playing along.

Satisfied that he did, Sakura's grin widen, "Do you think you'll like me when we're in the academy? Developing a crush maybe?"

Sasuke's face reveal a tiny amused smirk, "No,"

"And why is that?" Sakura tilted her head, frowning at his confident no.

Sasuke shrugs his shoulders, "I'm sure you're the one who will having a crush on me, join all those fangirls fawning over me, shamelessly ask for dates and for a seat next to me–"

Sakura makes an odd face as she cuts him off, "They did that?" She's quite impressed actually, if they went that extend for her good looking boyfriend (?)

"Still do." He replied nonchalantly, moving forward as he gently tug Sakura's arm to walk beside him.

"They do? Why didn't I know about this?" She asked as her feet fall beside him.

Sasuke rolls his eyes at her, "It doesn't matter."

"Because you like me, right? Right?" She was hopeful as she asked him. She didn't go to the same school Sasuke went, and she wasn't in the village for few years back either, so she doesn't really know people their age.

Sasuke Uchiha is always a tease when it comes to Sakura Haruno, so he smirked at her, "Maybe."

Sakura narrows her eyes at him before she turns her head away to the other direction, decided to dismiss his teasing manner and continue on to her game, "Do you think we will chosen to be in the same team, what do you call that? Genin was it?"

"Ahh." He responded.

"Genin team." She let out a short chuckle, "So cute, don't you think? What did you say your Jounin instructor was?"

"Hatake Kakashi."

Smiling ruefully, she asks, "Do you think he will like me? And your other teammate? I mean, we're going to become a team, I'm sure we will at least tolerate each other."

She doesn't realized it when her companion frown as he look down at her, "I think the dobe will have a crush on you. Kakashi will be neglecting you in training, but will be very fond of you, I'm sure."

"I thought you said your sensei doesn't like Ami." Sakura reminded.

"That's Ami. She's very aggravating, and a handful. You, in the other hand is brilliant, and Kakashi likes those who ask questions, and that's what you always do."

Sakura had to grin in content at Sasuke's subtle compliment of her, "He has many reasons to like me then. How about the other male teammate of yours. He's the blonde boy right, your best friend? Naruto?"

"Ahh." he said, and stop at Ichiraku, a ramen shop. "He liked ramen a little too much."

Sakura laughed, "Really, now? Is this where you often found him?"

"Hnn." He paused, "If I didn't know he has mission today, I'll be avoiding this place at all cost."

"Why bring me here, then?"

"It's the closest from the hospital."

"Alright, then."

Sasuke nodded at her as he pulls up the shop curtain for her to get in.

Smiling at his chivalrous manner, Sakura get in as he follows suit. They take a seat on the stool and order their food.

"This is actually good." She moans in satisfaction as she tasted the ramen. "Why haven't you bring me here before, Sasuke-kun?" She asked as Sasuke nod at the owner when he handed Sasuke's order.

"I've had a little too much of this. And plus, we hardly go out together for me to bring you anywhere."

"That's true." Sakura said, nodding her head as she feeds more of the ramen into her mouth. It didn't take long for her to finish her first bowl.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, "Do you want another one?"

Biting her lips, Sakura nodded shyly and so they order another bowl of ramen for her, "Naruto will be delighted knowing you like this."

"Ahh, we should bring him together next time then?" she suggested, "Maybe your sensei too? How about your brother and that charming cousin of yours? And your smoking friend?"

Sasuke rolls his eyes at her, "Yeah, bring the whole village here if you'd like."

Sakura burst out laughing at his sarcastic response, playfully smack his arm. They chatted a few more as Sakura finishes her second bowl. When Sasuke ask her if she wanted a third one, she shakes her head while patting her stomach, "I'm so full."

He pays for their food before they left, quickly shove the money to Teuchi before Sakura could retrieve hers.

"You don't have to pay mine." Her forehead scrunch in displease.

"I already did." Sasuke replied nonchalantly shrug his shoulder making Sakura rolls her eyes as they walk to the direction of her house. The walk to her house wasn't silence with Sakura constant chatter, which Sasuke has started to like. It's way better than Naruto's too loud and bright presence.

"Thank you for walking me home. And for the ramen. We absolutely need to go back there." She said, hands clasped at her back as she beams while she looks up at him.

Sasuke shoved his hands in his pants pockets while nodding, "If you like."

Sakura giggles at him before she rose on her toes to place a chaste kiss over his lips, "You're so cute."

He rolls his eyes, "Go up now, I'll wait."

"Such gentle man aren't you, Sasuke-kun. Good night." She chuckles as she turns around, raise her hand up for a good bye and walk up the stairs to her home.

True to his word, Sasuke wait until he heard a door closed, and her room light up for him to walk away, though he still look up at the window of her room while walking.

#ssm21 #ssm21d17 #SasuSaku #SasukeUchiha #SakuraHaruno #CivilianSakura #prompt #drabble #kishillaa #kishillaawriting

[pairofmelaninkweens]

Nostalgia

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou x Natsumi Myaski (oc)

By: @sweet-darling91

Summary: (Post time skip )Kurro has been looking for a chance to possibly reconcile with an Ex, but soon comes to learn that nostalgia can realy lead you down a path of thorns instead of a bed of roses.

CW/TW: Angst, vanilla sex,  and cunnilingus.

Wc: 4783

art by: twi.night on Instagram! one of the pictures Kuroo kept on the wall of his condo of Him and Natsumi.

The subtle warm scent with fresh citrus notes alerted his senses. It was mixed with that perfectly unique smell and feeling that only one person in existence could provoke, Natsumi. It sprung memories of late-night lovemaking in his dorm, as the rays of moonlight illuminated your cocoa brown skin, highlighting its cinnamon undertones.

 The buns you swept your hair up in were removed when he pulled the hair ties free, sending your dark curly tresses tumbling down past your shoulders. Wrapping the curls around his fingers as he tugged them, groaning when you bowed your back as he took you from behind. Remembering the way your ass pressed against his pelvis, the way you would keen when he spread your buttery smooth thighs further, watching your essence coat his cock as he plunged it deep into your quivering cunt.

 He remembered the way your silken walls would quiver around him as you moaned his name, the way your small frame would tremble as he sunk balls deep into you, your cum would drip down his balls. Fuck, you were so perfect. He would get lost in you night after night. Even now, years after you left his life. He would still fantasize about you, craving the way your warm body clung to him. It broke his heart when you lost contact with him, because like it or not you were a pillar in his life.

 You were the one that brought him to accept parts of himself he neglected. The origin of most of his kinks and preferences. Especially the first girl he endearingly called Chibi-chan. Of course, he ignored the fact that it was indeed the same name he teased his Orange haired buddy with over his height-or lack thereof.  It was different for you though; it was meant to be endearing. The most important detail is after all this time and secret pining, he found you, mere feet away far enough not to be in direct contact thanks to the layout of the patio, with the decorative shrubbery around, and the angle his table was stationed at. He had the vantage point in observing you, and it made his cock twitch remembering the way you made his blood heat. The memory of the connection you once shared painfully squeezes his chest.

 Natsumi Miyazaki, a name that was burned into his memory forever. Now sits with perfectly crossed legs poised in your seat. Hair cut into a bob, parted on the side, with bangs framing your slender face. Hazel eyes sparkled when you beamed at the man cracking jokes over coffee. He couldn’t be that funny to be making you flash your smile like that he thought as he turned up his nose, letting his lips sink into a frown and eyes narrow at the sight of you with him.

 The cashmere top with the sweetheart cut highlighted your delicate clavicle and the swell of your breasts. Your form-fitting skirt accentuated your small waist, hugging your hips and thick thighs. Kuroo began biting his tongue wishing he could get a better view of your ass. The white and cream outfit was cute, clean, and professional. It read that you meant business, that, and the subtle tells in your body language confirmed it. The way your eyes analyzed the orange-haired man, and the all too polite way you sipped at your latte, made him laugh darkly.

 Whatever Shoyo was saying must have given you the answer you were looking for, and your response was subtle pettiness. He recognized that polite smile was a mask, the exaggerated nods and the batting of your eyelashes was used to do to supress rolling your eyes. This happened when you asked him questions you already knew the answers to. A cleaver warning and it seems that went over Shoyo’s head. What were you up to? Why were you out here all dolled up with a new outfit and hair styled completely different than when it was back in college? Why change your appearance to shortcake? Then it dawned on him, information. You were working, he knew you were, but was distracted staring at you. The longer you took probing Shoyo, the more impatient he became, fidgeting in his seat and glowering.

 Leaving a tip for the waitress he made his way to your table; he was only 5 feet away when the rhythmic tap of 4 manicured digits followed by a double-tap of your index finger against the glass table halted his stride. It was your sign to him; acknowledging his presence and warning not to interrupt. This shouldn’t surprise him. You were always the most astute in class, rivalling him for the top academic grade and overall performance. Along the way to those achievements, you spent so much time together you were well versed in each other’s non-verbal cues.

 That’s what got him so interested in you, seeing how your mind worked. The way you would speak volumes with so few words and see everything with a glance. Now pointedly walking past the table, he answered your rasp with two taps of his umbrella against the cobblestone patio floor. “Looks like rain” he remarked as he opened it out, and started walking up the street.

 Five minutes later he heard the quick taps of heels and the gentle, beautiful fragrance returned when you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. “Is this a good time?” he asked, eyes still trained forward, steps returning to their previous pace.

 You release a contented hum, and then raise your head to ask, “Which one is yours?”  releasing your hold on him and motioning towards the parked cars.

 “The black Audi,” he responds, as you smile to yourself eying the 2017 R8 model. “Of course, the flashiest car for the former prince of Nekoma high.” You say as you playfully shove his shoulder. He looks down at you and curls his lips shrugging at the tease. “ I mean, were they wrong?”

 Rolling your eyes you open the passenger side door, settling in the seat and sliding off the bob-cut wig and cap that encased your curly tresses. Kuroo watched the curls spill down your shoulder as you rub your scalp and sigh in relief, only stopping to spot the time on the dash. “Ok, let’s go, my schedule’s free after that meeting.”

 His eyebrows raise in surprise, “Always so forward."

 “There’s no time to beat around the bush, if you have something to ask me, go ahead,” you quip, with a sharp side glance at him, before pulling the visor down to adjust your lipstick in the mirror.

 “I just missed you,” he admitted.

 “Missed me or missed what I could do for you?” Closing the visor, you turn and look him in the eye, your gaze piercing through him. His shoulders slump slightly, and a bitter chuckle escapes his lips. “Is it always going to be business with you? Even after everything?”

 “It’s always going to be business with you because of everything. You're the one that said ‘lets just be friends. Realistically that's the best option because I’m too dangerous to be a stranger to you with all that I know." You finish, chest burning with your bitter pettiness and disgust in sympathy for his masked pain.  "You were one of the greatest loves of my life. But not THE love of my life.” you continue, thinning your lips and turning away and closing your eyes to soothe the burning in them.

“I still love you too. But it’s not gonna happen, our time is over.” You finally say.

“I figured that you became an information broker to get Kiyoomi’s attention recently.” He interjected with jealousy clear in his tone.

Snapping your gaze back at him. “I chose my career to be independent, so no would hurt me like you did.  I don’t want to take orders from someone because I’m no goon. I stand by my policy. It would do you well to stand by it too.” Ignoring his pained reaction, you continued. “Taking me to your place, right?  Then let’s get on with that instead because I don’t owe you any of my personal details.” The thought crossed you mind, and the words slipped past your lips before you could stop them. “That information is a premium charge if you’re that curious.” you stated holding out your hand.

“it’s in the glove box” he sighed. “I know you didn’t seek me to purchase information for your ‘work.’ you wanted my time, didn’t you?”  looking up to see him nodding in reply with a dejected smile. You weren’t finished though, thinking to yourself as you exited the car, followed him through the underground garage, past security and into his penthouse. You had a point to prove with your hidden agenda, and you weren’t leaving here until you got what you came for.

  Stepping through the threshold was like sinking into the warm comforting depths of the deep sunlit seawater. Warm, familiar, and comforting. Immediately you could tell that nothing had changed, relief washed over you with the realization that dramatically increased your advantage and success rate for your target. Just like the deep-sea waters though you knew there were dangers the deeper you sank into this familiarity. Shoving that thought to the side you slid off your shoes and began walking through the hall, hands grazing the walls observing pictures of him and his family. Passing one of you in a group shot together cleverly placed in the collage on the wall, slipping into the living room, passing the pictures of the old gang and snapshots of you studying with Sienna, and Kenma. Then seeing yourself standing in the rain in the background of a team group shot mocking Bokuto who was trying to duck out of the shot but failed to. Blushing wildly covering your best friend from the rain with his jacket and hiding his face that was covered in tinted lip balm. “Always the gentleman Bo.” You grinned at the shot, roaming over other pictures of his MSBY friends, the rival teams, some shots included new coaches, vice-captains, fellow higher-ups and the team medics. Then you saw the generous helping of pictures of your time together though, the two of you studying with Sienna and Bokuto, who was flustered looking at Sienna instead of the textbook. Shots of you riding on Kuroo’s shoulders, a cute one that you vividly remember Sienna taking of you covered in your own lipstick when Kuroo put it on and smothered you with kisses all over your face and arm, a flustered expression clearly focused on the camera. You remember the way he was focused on you, only looking to the camera to smirk before he continued his assault of kisses on you. Finally, the last picture was of you landing that ‘Oikawa serve’ in one of the final games before leaving college. Once again you closed your eyes, trying to soothe yourself from the melancholy trip down memory lane with his display.

Slipping open your lids you accepted the fact that the burning in your throat and prickling in your eyes would not cease, letting the cool tears flow freely.  “you cruel bastard. You kept all of it. Why?”

“Because You’re always on my mind, you never left.”

 “is that all?” you say turning to face him, hating the conflicting feelings swarming through you all at once, the nostalgia was warm, sweet, and welcoming. But the result was bitter, cold and lonely. Logically you should stick to the job, but your emotions were forcing you to focus your mind elsewhere.

“Nope, your here too.” He points to his heart. “Every time I close my eyes it’s you, I see. Wishing that it’s your voice calling out my name, your hair that fanned out on the pillow next to mine. Your arms wrapping around me. If I take them down. If I remove all the stuff. It would be leaving a void in the middle of my life. I can’t have that, I’d crumble.” He admits with his eyes locked in your gaze.

You answer him by bounding into his arms like old times and breathlessly kissed him. He deepened it, holding you tightly, cradling the back of your head gently letting his free hands travel down your back and firmly grabbing your ass pulling you close to his body and rolling his hips into you. Groaning as he feels your warm body. Relishing in the smooth suppleness of your skin under his hands.

 "Your skin was always so smooth, so soft." He murmured into your neck. Trailing open mouth kisses down it. Leaning your head to the right, granting him more access to your throat. Fluttering your lashes enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin again. Your brought back down onto your feet, as he sinks to his knees, unzipping your skirt and letting it pool around your ankles. You grabbed his tie and pulled him flush against your pelvis, slipping one leg over his shoulder and angling your puffy lips to align with his mouth.

"Kiss me, show me how much you missed me." Winking and smiling at him sweetly. His face heats at your sudden boldness, a contrast to the usual blushing submissive side. Leaning forward he obliged and kissed you through the thin crotch of the lacy fabric separating his lips from yours. Flattening his tongue, he laved it down your wet slit. Biting your bottom lip to stifle moans threatening to echo through the apartment, you began rocking your hips back and forth, craving more friction. Sensing your eagerness Kuroo pulls at the material with his teeth and lets the elastic snap against you. Humming in pleasure when he hears the responding gasp melting into a soft muted moan. He missed the sounds you made, and he wanted to hear more of them. Slipping his index finger past the ruined panties he sinks his index finger knuckle deep, groaning at how eagerly your gummy walls wrapped around his digit. "God, your so tight Chibi-chan, did u miss me?"

 Whining in response you wrapped your fingers around the strands of raven hair pulling harshly. "Mmmm more" you demanded, he smiled noting the lack of answer and obediently slipped the second digit in, pumping the fingers in and out, taking pleasure in the feeling of you clenching around him, the sweet taste of your slick and skin. But what really got him going was the sounds spilling from your lips when he swallowed your clit into his mouth hollowing out his cheeks and grinding his fingers against that spongey spot that had you bucking her hips and crying out. His breathing started to get obstructed when you yanked at his tie, tightening it around his throat. His vision getting blurry and the sound of his blood rushing through his veins filled his ears. Then on instinct you released the tie, fresh air flooded into his lungs, the rush of oxygen and the dopamine surging through his system delivered an indescribable high.

 He freed his cock from his pants giving himself slow soothing pumps to his throbbing length. Its head swollen, pink and dripping pre that he used as a lube before grabbing your hips and easing you to sit on his face. He bucked into the empty air craning his neck and slipped his tongue into your quivering pussy. Your legs gave out as your orgasm surged through you like a flash fire, igniting every blood cell in our body with hot pleasure that clouded your mind and mad your eyes roll to the back of your head as you released a litany of curses and Kuroo’s name. He gripped your hips with a bruising force, drinking in your cum as it spilled into his mouth, embracing your trembling form.

 As you caught your breath Kuroo brushed the stray strands of hair free from your face and immediately searched your face for signs of discomfort. His lips stretched into a smile when you started smoothing your hands through his hair. “I’m not a dog, you don’t need to pet me he nipped at your hand. Standing, and stripping off his shirt and shooting you a wink. “Well at least dogs are loyal.”  Returning his wink as you get to your feet and watch him as he flings his shirt and tie over his shoulder, grasping his chest and looking down at you through his lashes. “Ouch, you aren’t here to play nice, are you?” he croons as he slips his hands on your waist and back steps toward his room.

 “Not at all.” you answer while pointing over to his bed, “have a seat,” waiting for him to do so, your request before you slipped out of the top, revealing the strapless bralette and flinging it his way, grinning when he caught it in his mouth, shooting you a wink and growling. Releasing a playful “woof” before dropping it onto the floor to watch you close the space between you two. You slid your palms up his thigh bracing the other hand on his chest, coaxing him to lean back  allowing you to slink up his long body letting your glistening pussy lips slide up his hardened shaft and muffled his groan when you pressed your plump lips over his pulling back to whisper, “shhh, don’t get too excited too soon” you tease trailing kisses down his neck, leaving blossoming bruises in your wake, kissing down his chest and finally sitting back up halting your hip to search his face. You could feel the way his heart was hammering in his chest against your palm. “Don’t be shy now Natsumi.” He bucks his hips and you sink your teeth into your lip to stifle the moan rising from you.

 His hands fastened to your hips in a death grip, his fingers and knuckles white, his pupils blown, his chest heaving with anticipation. He nodded and bucked his hips, slipping his shaft through your delicate petals and being rewarded with a sweet soft moan. “Lean forward Chibi-chan, I got you,” he assured. Reluctant to trust him for much, you relented with a sigh and obeyed.

Feeling his swollen velvety tip breach your entrance, you couldn’t hold back from slamming your hips down, enveloping him in your warm, hungry pussy with a moan that made him growl low in his throat. “D-don’t move, ok?” you struggled through whimpers at how the stretch sent pleasure flooding your senses. Your body flushed with heat, goosebumps flashing across the surface, nipples pebbling before his eyes, and that plush bottom lip being tortured between your pearly teeth as you bit down on it to suppress moans threatening to spring free but still reaching Kuroo’s ears. Your hips bucked forward, working your waist in slow delicious circles that edged both of you just right. The friction your swollen clit got from grazing his hilt urged you to close your eyes and twerk your ass cheeks, the sudden movements caused his dick to grind against the walls of your tight core, which clenched him snuggly inside you. He gasped each time you jerked and rolled your waist, bouncing up and down his cock, building a punishing speed that drove him wild and bow his back up off the bed. “Chibi-chan that’s it, fuck yourself on my cock baby.” he moaned thrusting his hip up in time to crash into yours when you thrusted your hips down, making him moan out in bliss, lolling his tongue out as your hips jackhammered down onto him. “Kurooooo, I’m gonna cum.”

 He eased the pressure on your hips, his breath stuttering and sweat collecting on his brow as he watched the way you raised your body up the length of his dick and dropped onto it. Your swollen lips swallowing him deeply, convulsing around him. “Mm cum on this cock Chibi-Chan!” he growled demanding your attention and compliance. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long when you would finally come back and ride me and let me fuck you into this mattress. Ffffff fuck Natsumi.” You throw your head back as your pussy convulses and your orgasm ripples through your body. Radiating waves of intensity surging through your body sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He sits up to let you rest your forehead against his, both of you panting for breath. He laid slow soft kisses across your flushed cheeks, smoothing his hands up your back and down your sides slowly but gaining in pressure. You also feel his cock harden inside you as he starts brings his lips against your, kissing your deeply and letting your taste yourself on his tongue.

Rocking your hips in slow motions you let him take advantage and toss you into the mattress, sinking his incisors into your neck and his cock balls deep “you feel so good baby~ I wanna cum deep inside you, look at me Sumi. I want to see your face when I fill you.” He ruts into you setting the delicious pace of pulling out and pounding into your dripping cunt, the chorus of hips crashing into each other, the squelching of your wet pussy milking him, and wanton moans filled his ears. He forced his eyes closed trying to burn it all into memory. The beautiful pitch your voice took when he hit that perfect spot deep inside you, lacing his fingers with yours, he crowded your frame with his broad upper body. Balancing on his elbows he used every muscle in his thighs to push into you, bringing tears to your eyes as flashes of black and white cloud your vision, all the breath left your body as Kuroo sent you tumbling into a prolonged orgasm. A wild blissful ride rendering your body weightless, gravity no longer existed, lost in the incredible sensations coursing through your body and spasmed when Kuroo thrust almost painfully deep into you pumping you past your limit with hot ropes of cum pulsing into you. You felt warm everywhere, there was tingling under the surface of your skin, movements reduced to the speed of warm molasses. “I’ve got you Natsumi.” his voice sounded so far away but the sound was followed with gentle soothing strokes up your sides, slowly grounding you. Soon after the feeling of him caressing your cheek and feeling him planting a soft kiss on your lips brought your mind back to the present, just like he would back then. Bringing you back down to earth after fucking your soul out of your body filled him with pride knowing he still could do this to you. The bitter pangs of his heart told him that one day the person doing this wouldn’t be him. The gentle sound of your voice thanking him grasped his attention and gave him the chance to appreciate your raw beauty. The lipstick had long been kissed away revealing plump two-toned nude lips, the even tone of her golden chestnut skin and deep chocolate eyes made his sting with tears. “It’s been a long time, nostalgia’s hurting, isn’t it?” you teased reaching your arms out for him to pull himself into an embrace, sighed at the feeling of you nuzzling into him and kissing his jaw. “Seeing you like this hit hard. It’s like seeing my dreams and memories merge together and play out in front of me, yet the actual thing, still pales every single image, every thought, every memory in comparison.” Pulling back to see his face you arched an eyebrow. “oh?”

 “Every time I have someone next to me, I wished it were your body warming that side of my bed instead, your curls fanned out across my pillow, your voice filling the room when you call my name, and your lips I taste when I kiss. I shouldn’t have hurt you the way I did Sumi, I’m sorry.” He breathed. You closed her eyes and hummed. This was supposed to hurt more. But it was just a dull ache of sympathy, the bond that you had with him had long frayed and snaped, well at least you hoped. You truly moved on. It was a relief and a pity. A relief that you felt nothing, a pity for him, that he was feeling everything.

 “That connection had long since ended Roo, the love I feel for you now isn’t the same. That level of devotion was gone the moment you left me. Understand? I only give that out to those deserving. This was sweet, to an extent. But by no means is it a sign of any kind of romantic reconcile, ok?” his eyes swirled with remorse, and he numbly nodded. Finishing the water he gave you, you placed it on the side table as headed to the bathroom to clean yourself up in the hot shower, rinsing the feeling of him off your skin. Breathing the hot steam deep into your lungs to refocus your mind. Inwardly thanking him for not following you in there. After the shower you grab a town and dry of, return to the room finding him sitting on the bed.  Looking up at you a smile flashed across his face along with a faint blush on his cheeks. “Your hair, it brings me back to when I would help you with drying it out, detangling and oiling your scalp.” You shook your head. And cast him a side glance. “And?”

“Well, it was my favourite, you know I always thought your hair was cute in those buns" he muses, she glared at him. "How childish. People grow Kuroo, I have long grown out of that. You know it was cute walking down memory lane with you, but it revealed one thing. You haven’t changed, your out here fucking girls that remind you of me, holding onto the past while I, and the rest of the world move forward. Grow up, you should try it sometime." You spat, spinning on your toes to invade his closet, boldly slamming the door and reef through the clothes for something to wear only to come up to another nostalgic discovery, with out uttering a word you grabbed the old uniform and put it on, gathering up his travel bag and rummaging through his drawers, eyes scanning every free surface. Noticing that he was not making a sound made you suspicious. “You alive?” tensing waiting for his reply.

 “Yeah, just giving you space-” he was cut off when he saw the college uniform hug your curvy figure. He truly felt like if he blinked, you’d vanish, but when you realized what was going on you yanked the bundles of hair free, shaking the damp curls and sweeping them up into a messy bun letting stray strands frame your face. “I may be a vision from your memories, so take a good look. This is the last time you’ll see me like this. Once I leave this room you won’t have this chance again. So, I do hope that your ‘hoe phase’ was an enjoyable one.” you finished slipping on a pair of runners. “I really can’t believe you kept everything here, that isn’t healthy, and if you have other women wearing my things, that’s- disturbing.”

“What should I do with the clothes you came here with.”

“Burn it. Toss it, it’s of little consequence to me, my job is done.” You shrug on the travel bag on your shoulders.

“But I didn’t tell you anything, you never asked any questions. Did you even get what you needed?” Cupping his cheek to look into his eyes. “Thank you for being one of my greatest loves Kuroo, you really should stop putting yourself in danger trying to steal glances at me. Turning up in places where you think I will be or following my potential targets. You’ll end up putting a target on your back if you keep that up, I’m grown. I can handle myself.” you warned, “bye Sumi.” he closed his eyes and felt you kiss him, when he opened them again his heart sank to see the room empty, but then it sank into his belly realizing what exactly she did. Running into the walk-in closet he yanked open his draws in search of his files and the dossier. No surprise, they were all missing, the dossier, all the files including the first classified drive he had in there.  Damn, He really paid her to rob him. He smiled bitterly to himself admiring the finesse. He attempted to buy time to plead his case, only to be out of luck with love, and now possibly his job.

#kuroo angst #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x oc #kuroo x reader oc #haikyuu smut #haikyū!!

[kyber-queen]

burning (fives x gn!jedi!reader)

Summary: A retelling of the Umbara arc where reader is assigned to the 501st to assist in the Umbara invasion. Established relationship with Fives, Krell is an ass to reader and Fives is Not Having It, couples that defend one another stay together, lil bit of fluff lil bit of angst lil bit of action we got it ALL

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, medical stuff, mentions of death/injury, Krell is just an ASSHOLE to the reader, a lil kiss perhaps 

Author’s Note: This idea has been stuck in my head for AGES, and now I finally have it on paper!! This was really fun to write, as always ANY comments/feedback/questions would be HIGHLY appreciated !! ALSO: ner kar’ta means my heart in Mando’a !!

***

A rumble of murmurs rolled through the battalion of troopers at the sight of the interim general of the 501st. Pong Krell, Fives had identified from behind you. You watched warily as the besalisk exited the dropship, his hulking form broad and dark against the soft glow of the natural vegetation. You fell silent as he spoke with General Skywalker. The newcomer unnerved you. Skywalker seemed hesitant to leave his troops behind—you didn’t blame him. The council had insisted you accompany the 501st to assist with the march on Umbara’s capitol, and even with your short time stationed directly in the unit you had seen firsthand Skywalker’s devotion to his troopers. The prospect of leaving them under the command of the rather imposing figure before him must be daunting.

You snapped to attention as Skywalker introduced you and the Captain, your eyes meeting Krell’s for a moment as he appraised you. His gaze turned your stomach. 

He was a Jedi master, you reminded yourself. He had the respect and trust of the council, and as Skywalker turned to leave, you reluctantly acknowledged that he had the General’s trust as well. You shifted a quick glance behind you, seeking out Fives. He stood at attention, his shoulders squared. You’d talk to him later, you figured.

“Commander, will I be graced with the honor of your full attention, or do you have more pressing matters at hand?”

Condescension dripped from Krell’s tone. Your cheeks heated, and you quickly turned to face the new General.

“My apologies, sir,”.

Krell harrumphed, continuing on with his speech.

You watched the troopers’ faces fall as he ordered them to stand at attention when speaking to him. Krell seemed to be a fierce disciplinarian—you doubted there would be much tolerance for open discussion with the besalisk in charge. Still, he ran a highly successful battalion. His leadership style differed greatly from Skywalker’s, but he had the success rates to back up his different strategies. It’ll only be one mission, you figured. How bad could it be?

Krell finished his speech with a sharp nod of his head, ordering the troopers to move out. You lingered in the rear, giving Krell a respectful nod as he wrapped up his discussion with the Captain. Now was as good a time as any to make a more personal introduction.

“General Krell, the council sent me here to—”

“I know why you’re here, Commander. As far as my understanding goes, you are to act as a tactical assistant. I will let you know if I need any such assistance. Dismissed,”.

You frowned, turning away and taking a few jogging paces to catch up with the men. Was it just you, or did the new general seem rather indifferent? You brushed away your thoughts as the terrain rose up to meet the steady pace of your feet.

“Fives,” you called, his helmet whipping around at the sound of your voice. He motioned for his brothers to slow down, allowing you to catch up. You quickened your pace, closing the gap between the two of you. 

“So, what do you think of the interim General?” He asked, looking back to his brothers for just a moment as if in reassurance.

“Strict, and almost dismissive” you noted, “but I’m sure his intentions are good,”.

Fives nodded, slipping off his helmet and tucking it under his arm as you walked.

“Me ‘n Jesse were just talking—Krell has the highest casualty rate in the GAR,”.

Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ as you acknowledged the concerned look on Fives’s face.

His voice lowered, so only you could hear.

“It’s over 50%, ner kar’ta. He’s reckless, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. I—”

You silenced him with a gentle touch to his upper arm, in between the gap in his armor. His eyes drifted to your hand against his skin, and then back to your face. His expression softened.

“I know it’s going to be difficult—honestly, I don’t entirely trust him either—but Skywalker and the council do. We aren’t going to be able to pull this invasion off if everybody isn’t on the same page,”.

Fives nodded hesitantly. You gave him a soft smile in response. The two of you trudged on.

***

After hours of crossing inhospitable terrain, fending off native creatures, and surviving an enemy ambush, your patience with Krell was wearing thin. In the past few hours, he had shown a total disregard for the lives of the men under his command as well as your own rank in the battalion. When you seconded Rex’s call for a scouting party, the General all but laughed in your face. Your opinion meant next to nothing to him. Without the extra reconnaissance, hundreds of men died today. Unnecessarily. You burned. Rex and Fives echoed your frustrations, both men airing their grievances with the interim General.

Rex spoke first, raisng the question of Krell’s inconsiderate and dangerous tactics. He was right, you thought. Krell had crossed a line with his reckless strategies.

The General was less than receptive to Rex’s input, jabbing his large finger into the man’s chest as punctuation to his harsh words. You opened your mouth to remind the General that, according to the Jedi council, you were still his tactical advisor and that you had also adamantly disagreed with his strategies before he dismissed your opinion. Before you could speak, Fives strode up to the General, speaking in fierce defense of his captain.

“General Krell, in case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that,”.

Krell’s lips twisted into a sneer, and he ignited his lightsaber menacingly. Your hand instinctively flew to your own saber on your belt clip as you stepped forward in defense of Fives, the weapon igniting in your hand.

“ARC-5555, stand down,” Krell ordered. His gaze flitted over to you, noting the saber in your hand and the thinly concealed fury in your eyes with a smirk. “And Commander, put that out before someone loses an eye,”.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Fives murmured, exchanging a glance with you as you hesitantly switched off your saber.

Krell dismissed the platoon with a smug grin.

You grabbed Fives’ vambrace, dragging him behind a large swatch of vegetation. He removed his helmet, taking a seat on the ground next to you. He sighed deeply. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent—he looked tired. 

You wanted to yell. You wanted to complain. You knew neither of you needed that right now. 

You reached up to cup Fives’s face in your hand, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb gently.

“When we get back, I’ll issue a report to the council on Krell’s neglectful treatment,” you murmured, offering what comfort you could.

Fives shook his head.

“It’s no use—what’s the council going to do? Give him a slap on the wrist? It’s not just Krell, ner kar’ta. To the majority of officers here, we’re expendable. One man dies, but there’s three more finishing up their training on Kamino and ready to take his place. I wish they’d realize—”. Fives trailed off with a sigh, and his soft brown eyes met yours.

You gave him a sad little smile.

“I love you,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Fives’ hand moved up to rest lightly against your cheek, his other hand holding the small of your back softly as he returned your kiss with a small grin.

A twig snapped.

You leapt away from each other as if you had both been burned.

You looked around, searching the darkness for a hidden figure. Heavy footsteps sounded to your right.

Before you could turn to follow the noise, blaster fire echoed to your left. Fives slipped his helmet over his head, yanking you back behind the vegetation. Your saber ignited, and the sky lit up with crossfire.

***

After receiving new information from Kenobi, the battered 501st made its weary way to the Umbaran airbase. Under Krell’s command the casualty rate had increased tenfold for this mission alone—the battalion medics were stretched thin. You did what you could to ease the pain of the wounded. Spotting a ridge, Krell motioned for you and the Captain to follow him.

“We’ll advance along the central gorge, and engage their forces in a full-forward assault,” Krell ordered.

You exchanged a look with Rex, who re-examined the terrain with his scope.

“The gorge is narrow, sir. We’ll only be able to move our platoons in single squads,” Rex explained.

We’ll be sitting ducks entering single-file down that gorge, you thought.

“Perhaps a closer recon will tell us if there’s a more secure route,” Rex suggested.

“I agree with the Captain,” you stated. “With the numbers we’ve lost earlier today, we can’t afford to risk the lives of the men we have left with a full-forward assault,” you supplemented.

Krell frowned.

“Obi-Wan and the other battalions are holding off the enemy right now, while they wait for us to take out this base. We don’t have time to look for a more secure route,”. 

Krell turned away with finality.

Rex shook his head, turning back toward his men.

This isn’t right, you thought. You jogged to catch up with the General.

“General Krell,” you called.

“What is it, Commander?” he grumbled.

“I’d like to talk to you about possibly reconsidering the full-forward strategy. A short reconnaissance mission could provide vital information in taking this base, and it could possibly save the lives of many of our men,”. Your hands twitched anxiously.

“Our men, hmm? A charming sentiment, Commander,”.

Your brows furrowed. When you next spoke, there was a new intensity to your voice.

“Forgive me for being forward, General, but it isn’t a sentiment. Each trooper we lose is a life that we were responsible for protecting. It is in everyone’s best interest to go forward with the reconnaissance. As your tactical advisor, I strongly suggest you consult with Captain Rex to put together a small recon team,”.

Krell chuckled to himself.

“Everyone’s best interest. Amusing. We’ll proceed with the full-forward assault as planned,”.

You fumed.

“Sir, as your tactical advisor, I insist that you initiate the formation of a reconnaissance team. I do not understand why you fail to realize the gravity of this situation,”.

There was a spark to Krell’s eyes, now. You had angered him. He paused. You held your breath.

“Forgive me for being forward, Commander, but I do not place much weight on the opinion of someone whoring themself out for a clone. I’m sure you understand how this situation appears to me,”.

You sucked in a sharp breath. It had been him in the darkness. You were certain of it. Your chest burned.

“I-I apologize, General,”.

Krell nodded dismissively. You turned away, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He knew. You’d get expelled from the order, Fives would get reconditioned if he was lucky, and you had no clue what to do about it. You stepped away.

“Oh, and Commander?”

You turned back to face the General, hastily wiping at your face. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t.

“Yes, sir?”

“If you want to remain in your current station, you would do well not to disobey my orders again,”.

Krell was blackmailing you.

You nodded.

“Yes, sir,”.

You stumbled down the hill as fast as you could, spotting Fives amongst a gathering of troopers. He noticed a tear streaking your face, and pulled you away from the crowd. As soon as the two of you were alone, you spoke.

“He knows, Fives. Krell knows about us. He saw us, when we were away from the rest of the platoon, after he threatened you. Maker, I—” Another tear slipped down your cheek as you fought to catch your breath.

“Slow down, ner kar’ta, are you sure? How do you know?”

Fives’ eyes, soft and calm, met your teary ones. You scrubbed at your face hurriedly.

“I went to talk to him after he proposed the full-forward assault without a recon,” you spoke, your voice wavering less this time. “He wasn’t receptive to my explanation, so I asked him why. He said he ‘didn’t place weight on the opinion of someone whoring themself out for a clone,’”.

Fives’ eyes went wide.

“He said that to you?”

You nodded.  “He knows,”.

Fives gripped your shoulders tightly.

“Stay here. I’m going to—” Fives started towards the hill, looking up to where Krell stood with an expression of pure rage on his face. A palm to his chest stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t. I think he’s blackmailing me—I don’t think he’ll tell, as long as I don’t question his orders,” you explained.

Fives cocked his eyebrow at you.

“You really believe that?”

“I have to. What choice do I have?”

Fives shook his head, checking to make sure you were truly alone before pulling you into a tight embrace. You sighed into his shoulder.

“He won’t get away with this, ner kar’ta. I promise you,”.

***

Your hands shook. You had taken the airbase, the supply ship had been destroyed, and it still wasn’t enough for Krell. You remembered when Fives landed the Umbaran fighter just an hour ago, how relieved you had been when he made it back alive. That relief was gone, now. Krell had ordered him to be court-marshalled for disobeying orders. Rex had assured you he would assume responsibility, that he would talk to Krell, and that Fives would be okay. He came back minutes later with a weary face and news that threatened to rend your heart from its chest. He had received an order of execution for Fives and Jesse. You had to talk to Krell—beg on your hands and knees if you had to—you had to get that order reversed, nevermind Krell’s warning not to question his orders. You had to try.

You stood outside the command center, attempting to steady your countenance. One trembling finger pressed the button to open the door.

“General, we need to talk,”.

“What troubles you, Commander?” Krell didn’t even bother to turn around.

“I demand that you overturn the order of execution for ARC-5555 and CT-5597,” you stated firmly.

Krell chuckled.

“We both know you’re in no position to make such demands, Commander,” Krell sighed to himself. “I had hoped you would heed my earlier warning. I should have known it would fall on deaf ears,”.

“General, you are sending two innocent men to their deaths,”.

Krell glanced around, noticing the surrounding clones closely watching your exchange.

“Troopers, leave us,”.

The men filed out of the room quickly, leaving you alone with the General.

“You should be thanking me, Commander,” Krell mused. “Last time I checked, wasn’t attachment cause to be expelled from the Jedi order? Exterminating this clone solves both of our problems,”.

You shook your head.

“They won’t do it. They won’t execute them,”.

Krell hummed, considering your statement.

“Maybe so—but these men will be put to death, even if I have to carry it out myself,”. A twisted smile split Krell’s face as he spoke.

You ignited your saber, your tone fierce and unyielding.

“I won’t let you,”.

Krell tilted his head, both his sabers lighting up in his hands.

“Make your decision carefully, Commander. You’ll be expelled from the Order. You’ll lose everything,”.

Without Fives, you had nothing left to lose.

You swung.

Krell outmatched you with both speed and power. Each of your attacks was met by his blade. You growled. He parried your strike, landing a blow to your cheek with his fist. Your vision swam.

You were on the defensive now. You blocked two consecutive strikes from Krell’s sabers, grunting as he forced your blade closer and closer to your face. You scrambled for footing.

“It’s disappointing, really,” Krell hummed, his voice alarmingly casual. “Wasted potential,”.

Krell swung his unoccupied fist into the side of your head, the force of the blow carrying you across the room. Your saber clattered to the floor. You reached for your hilt, but just as your fingertips curled around the metal, an invisible hand grabbed you by the throat. Your body lifted from the cold durasteel floor, your toes barely brushing its surface. The pressure around your neck tightened. You clutched at your throat, darkness creeping around the edges of your vision. His eyes locked on yours, golden and eerie.

“You’re…Sith,” you choked out.

Krell chuckled.

“Not quite, my dear Commander,”.

Krell’s sneer was the last thing you saw before your vision went dark. You dropped to the floor.

Krell sighed, waving open the command center door. He motioned for the troopers to re-enter before gesturing at your unconscious body with another uninterested wave of his hand.

“Take them to the brig,”.

***

Fives walked to his execution with his head held high. He joked with Jesse, hoping to ease his brother’s mind as they marched towards their uncertain fate. He tried to be strong. All he could think about was you.

Two soldiers had carried you into the brig, placing you gently into your cell just as Fives was led out of the room. He caught a glimpse of your face before he left—you were bruised and unconscious. What had you done? What had Krell done? The markings on your face could not have been left by a Jedi.

As his closest brothers marched in with their blasters, his heart ached. He couldn't meet his end this way. Not while you and his brothers were still in danger. He needed to do something, and he needed to do it quickly. To save his brothers. To save you.

Dogma asked if he’d like to be blindfolded.

Reality sunk in. It was now or never.

They aimed. Fives spoke.

“Wait! This is wrong. And we all know it. The general is making a mistake, and he needs to be called on it. No clone should have to go out this way—we are loyal soldiers, we follow orders, but we are not a bunch of unthinking droids. We are men. We must be trusted to make the right decisions, especially when the orders we are given are wrong,”.

Fives sucked in a breath, hoping his words were enough.

“Fire!”

Not a single shot met its target. Fives breathed a sigh of relief.

As he and Jesse walked back to the brig, the question of his fate as well as yours still plagued him. He was sure you had ignored Krell’s warning not to question his orders—that must have been why you were so bruised and battered. Fives’s real question was why Krell had left you in such a brutalized state. No Jedi would have been so physically cruel. Fives’s blood boiled.

He re-entered his cell, curling up against the left wall. He could see your unconscious form in the cell next to him. He made careful note of every visible bruise and scrape on your body. Your neck was beginning to shade a deep purple color, and you sported a black eye. Each little mark fueled the fire of Fives’s anger tenfold. Krell needed to pay. To think that the man had even touched you, let alone battered you in such away, was enough to burn at Fives’s chest. He needed revenge. He spent the next few hours carefully monitoring your breathing, wishing he could reach out to touch you through the ray shield, wishing he could offer you the same comfort you always gave to him.

When Rex reappeared hours later, explaining that the era of Krell’s leadership had reached its end, Fives jumped at the chance to bring him in. With each new sliver of information Rex shared with him, Fives felt his anger at the besalisk grow. The so-called Jedi had targeted the two people he had cared about most—you and his brothers. As he checked his weapon and strapped on his armor, his expression set into a steely glare. Krell wouldn’t live to destroy any more lives—Fives would make sure of it.

***

The trees rustled with blaster fire and movement. Krell was everywhere. Fives heard the screams of his brothers over the comm—he took each one to heart. He would be ready.

“Steady your weapons—he’s headed our way,” Rex called.

Fives locked in his scope.

The general emerged in a blur of brightly lit plasma. Fives fired. Each shot was easily deflected by the Jedi, his twirling sabers redirecting the bolts effortlessly. Fives growled.

The general switched off his sabers, as if taking on the platoon with his lightsabers was far too easy. His back was to Fives—Krell grabbed a nearby trooper from his cover, flinging the man into the air. Fives saw his chance.

“What are you doing?” Rex hissed. Fives paid him no mind.

He fired five rapid shots at the general’s back. Only one managed to glance off the besalisk’s thick skin. Fives charged forward, swinging his blaster into Krell’s head with all his might. On his next swing, Krell knocked the blaster from his hand with a mere wave of his arm.

So that was how he wanted to play.

Fives readied his fists, throwing and landing three consecutive punches. The besalisk doubled over on the third, caught off guard by the strength of the blow. Fives grinned from under the helmet.

“A taste of your own medicine, yeah?”

Krell rose to his full height, allowing the remark to roll off his back. He lifted Fives off the ground with an invisible hand, before tossing him unceremoniously into the trunk of a nearby tree.

Feeble clones.

Fives hauled himself up from the ground slowly, his head pounding from the collision. Krell was nowhere to be seen. Fives scanned his surroundings—none of his brothers were visible, either. Had he been knocked unconscious? He listened for blaster fire, but none could be heard. He felt around the darkened forest floor, his hand closing around the shaft of his rifle.

A voice echoed to his left.

Fives ran towards the noise. He could barely make out the sight before him through the thick Umbaran fog. His brothers had gathered in a semi-circle around the still form of the former General. He ran faster, stopping when he reached Krell’s body and sucking in a deep breath.

“I stunned him, sir,” Tup explained.

“Nice work, Tup,” Rex praised.

Fives nudged the general with the nose of his rifle. His finger itched at the trigger. Rex pulled at his arm.

“Ease up, Fives. We got him,”.

Fives exhaled slowly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah, we got him alright,”.

***

You woke up in medbay, your head aching and throat throbbing. You were thirsty. You tried to speak, but your voice came out in a warble. You flexed your hand, realizing it was encased in something warm. You squeezed.

Fives jolted upright. Both his hands encased yours, and his eyes widened.

“You’re awake—are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You smiled, realizing he had fallen asleep holding your hand. Your smile quickly faded when you remembered what had happened that brought you here. Your heart seized.

“K-Krell—” You managed, the words scraping at your throat.

Fives smiled softly.

“Me ‘n the boys took care of him—he’s gone. You’re okay. We’re okay,”.

You nodded as he brought your palm to his lips, kissing it gently before resting it back in your lap. He fell silent.

Your eyes glanced over his weary expression. The lines on his face had grown into canyons in two short days. You hummed, words catching in your raw throat.

“Are you alright?” you croaked.

Fives shook his head, glancing up at the ceiling before looking back down at you.

“I almost lost you, ner kar’ta. Lost a lot of good men, too. Too many men,”.

You nodded, your chest aching at the emotion in his voice. You held out your arms. He collapsed into you, mindful of your new bruises.

The guilt of so much loss was eating at him. It broke your heart. You held him tight against your chest as he murmured an apology into your skin. 

#arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #fives #fives x reader #fives x you #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper tup #captain rex #clone trooper x reader #the 501st #anakin skywalker #pong krell #my fic